


Undercover Woes

by Quiet_Shadow



Series: The Woes Series [7]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Breastfeeding, Bukkake, Childbirth, Discussion of Abortion, Dresses, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, F/F, F/M, Het and Slash, Lingerie, M/M, Mech Preg, Multi, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Public Claiming, Public Sex, Spark Sex, Sparklings, Sticky Sex, Undercover as Married, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 172,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going undercover on a small, backwater planet of the Commonwealth in order to track down Decepticon's activities for the too-thinly stretched Intelligence Division; sounds simple, isn't it?<br/>Unfortunately for Sentinel, it turns out to be anything but simple when he has to pretend to be Bonded to Bulkhead, his team mate for the mission, and when he discovers exactly how different energon farmers are from prim and proper Cybertronians...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepheonixqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepheonixqueen/gifts), [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/gifts).



> And here we are.  
> The seventh installement of 'Sentinel's Woes'.  
> And this one hit me like a speeding truck and turned into a massive fic, especially for me who had never before gone ahead of 60k (and again, it was in my mother tongue and the fic in question was never completed). Well, I'll be able to say I managed to do something exceding 150k at least once in my life.
> 
> It took me almost one month and half to finish, but here it is, hoping you'll like.
> 
> **Warnings:** lot of OC Characters; check on the end notes regularly, I'll post the background infos as they come.
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, I'd like to thank Thepheonixqueen and Dellessa, without who that fic would probably not have been written. Thank you for your comments, your encouragements, and your help for helping me develop the background. I gift you this fic, because honestly? You're the ones who made it all happen. <3 <3 <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange couple comes to Primus' Blessing, on the small planet of Agri III...

It was Nightglow who noticed first the transport car. He was busy weeding one of his Conjunx’s fields near the main road when he saw the Zap-Horse cart pass by. Now, it wouldn’t have been an uncommon sight; around Primus’ Blessing, most farmers were using Zap-horses to travel from a point to another. But Nightglow prided himself in knowing all the carts around, as well as most Zap-Horses. And these ones were new. The lithe mech didn’t recognize the two occupants either. One was a bulky, green mech and the other a smaller, dark blue and orange mech. Nightglow rose to his pedes and straightened his long skirt as he walked closer to the fence to watch and hail them.

“Hello there, strangers,” he called out with a smile as he wiped his hands clean over his apron. “May Primus be with you.”

The big green mech pulled on the reins and the cart slowly stopped. Nightglow leaned against the barrier as the green mech turned toward him and smiled. “Hello there,” he said with a big grin, and Nightglow grinned in turn. This stranger already seemed like a pleasant mech. “May Primus walk with you, Goodwife. It is most lucky for us to have meet you!I hope you will forgive my bluntness, but… we’d really need some help,” he chuckled helplessly.

Nightglow laughed softly, hiding his mouth with his hand. Such a polite mech! Surely, one should call him a Goodmech! “I would be most happy to help you, Goodmech, if I can. Now, what would seem to be the trouble?”

“Well, you see… My Uncle purchased a property here a few vorns ago, and… Well, I’ve tried my luck on Cybertron and in the big cities, but honestly, I’d like to go back to a simpler, quieter life in a good farm,” the green mech shuffled. “So I talked with him, and since he never had time to really take care of the property before, he agreed to let me have it.”

“Oh! Oh!” Nightglow was delighted. “So that means you’re coming to live here, Goodmech?”

“If Primus will it, I’m most determined to install myself and my Intended here, pretty Goodwife,” the green mech answered easily with a bow as he made a gesture to show the other mech, who had stayed silent until now. Nightglow nodded he was making a face… he was almost… pouting? He seemed, at the very least, displeased by something.

Did he fear Nightglow would lure his nice Intended away? Really, it would be silly. Nightglow was perfectly happy as Farrier’s Endura, he had no need to go and flirt with a perfect stranger. But then again, if one wasn’t bonded yet, then the engagement could be called off, and perhaps the sour expression on the smaller mech’s face came from his doubts.

It was strange, if the two mechs were indeed fiancees, that the blue mech wasn’t wearing a proper dress yet. Then again, some farmers communities waited until the Bonding Ceremony was performed before they made the Endura wear the proper clothes to his or her new station. They must have come from such a community. Squinting a little, Nightglow was able to make out a necklace around the blue mech’s neck and he grinned. Why, it was a proper engagement necklace, and a pretty one, too! Bright red jewel, in a circle of gold, with some of Primus’ words engraved. My, such a sweet gift! They must love each other so much for the large mech to have bought him such a thing.

Smiling gently at the Goodmech’s Intended, Nightglow spoke. “It is nice to know we’ll have new farmers coming here. Primus’ Blessing is such a small town, it is always delightful to get new inhabitants. Pray tell, Goodmech, what property have you been given by your famous Uncle? For I can already think of three or four empty farms in dire need of renovations, and in dire need of the stern hand of a farmer and a Goodwife’s loving touch.”

“We’ll live in Shady Acres, Goodwife,” the large mech answered.

Nightglow actually clapped. “Oh my, how wonderful! It is a very nice property. I remember, when I was a sparkling just reaching at my Carrier’s waist, going to Shady Acres for teas with the Enduras and the sparklings. Old Shiftground took good care of it. It is most unfortunate he chose not to bond and offlined without heirs.”

Bulkhead nodded solemnly. “It is always a tragedy when a farmland can’t be properly cared for anymore. I sincerely hope I’ll be able to make that farm beautiful once again.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage, Goodmech,” Nightglow said with a bow. “And I realize I was most impolite, gentle Goodmech, for I have not told you my name yet. I’m Nightglow, Endura of Farrier.”

“My name is Bulkhead, Goodwife,” he answered with a bow of his own. “And I’d like to present you my Intended, Sentinel,” he added as he took Sentinel’s hand in his own. Nightglow smiled. So sweet!

The newly named Sentinel bowed his head at him. “Ma’am,” he said, and Nightglow frowned a bit.

Bulkhead faltered. “Ah, dearest… It is not the correct way to address to someone you just met,” he corrected his Intended gently. “You should call Nightglow just like I do, Goodwife, until we get to know him better.” He wasn’t chidding, really, but he certainly sounded a bit disappointed.

Sentinel’s face flushed a bit. “Ah… right. I’m sorry. It is… very nice to meet you, Goodwife,” he said again with a curt bow at Nightglow.

The darkly colored mech raised an optic ridge. Really, it was rather direct; not exactly proper behavior when one was meeting for the first time. Bulkhead gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry for my Intended rudeness, gentle Goodwife. But Sentinel grew up on Cybertron, and he’s not used to our ways, I’m afraid.”

Oh. It explained so much; city ‘bots, even more so ‘bots coming from the Commonwealth’s core world were often a bit rude. Endearing, but very awkward in polite rural society. They didn’t tend to stay long, for they always seemed to get too flustered by their way of life. Some stayed, and settled in bigger towns along the Erian River, but they rarely did so. Sentinel must have loved Bulkhead very much to come along with him to Agri III. But he must have felt so sad to leave all he knew behind him! Nightglow gave him a gentle smile.

“It is forgiven, Goodmech. I’m sure your Intended didn’t want to appear rude. You must be so tired after your journey, it must makes your processors ache and your glossa loosen.”

“It is true that we’re tired, Goodwife. I was hoping we’d have reached Shady Acres by now, but I’m afraid I’m lost,” Bulkhead answered, embarrassed once again.

Nightglow laughed softly. “Oh, but you’re not, I assure you, Goodmech. Shady Acres is down this road,” he said, gesturing at a crossroad a bit lower on the path. “You take the left path and follow it for four hics. It’s long, I know, but Shady Acres is separated from Happy Vale -- that’s the name of our property, by the way -- by the empty property of Restful Hollow. You should find a dirt path on your left after that; take it and continue for a few hundred of meters, and the house will be here, in a circle of tall Beryllium Oaks.”

Bulkhead smiled widely. “Your help is most appreciated, Goodwife. I’m most happy to have met such a nice, delightful and helpful individual on my arrival, and it would be my pleasure to stay and talk further with you” he said, bowing deeply. “I’m afraid, however, that we must haste to join our new home before the night cycle settle. I’ve no doubt lot of work lay ahead of us, and that we’ll need our strengths.”

“I would have liked to accompany you, Goodmech,” Nightglow said in turn, “but my field still need care, and my Conjunx is away for the day. I can’t allow myself to leave now, especially now that the bell tolls to announce the end of the classes for the sparklings. My Creations should be home shortly, and I’ll have to take care of them. But be assured, Goodmech, that I’ll come to visit and give you whatever help I can as soon as I’m able.”

“It is a most generous proposition, gentle Goodwife,” Bulkhead said sagely. “It is well appreciated, by me and by my Intended.” Sentinel nodded slowly. Bulkhead bowed once more. “Farewell, noble Goodwife, and I pray we get a better chance to get acquainted soon,” he said as he climbed back in the cart and hailed the Zap-Horses to advance again.

Nightglow waved the equipage goodbye and watched them disappear on the path. Kneeling back on the ground, he started to pick out weeds again.

Farm life wasn’t waiting, after all. Even if he just had juicy gossip to share with his fellow Enduras now!

***************************

“I don’t see why you had to let the conversation run for so long,” Sentinel groused as the Zap-Horses pulled the cart on the path. “What was that anyway? You weren’t really lost, were you?”

Bulkhead vented longly as he tightened his grip on the reins. “No, I wasn’t, Sentinel. But small talk count for a lot for farmers, especially when introducing oneself for the first time. Polite conversation is very important when one of to make friends with his neighbors. By telling that mech that we were a bit lost and indicating right away what we were after, it allowed to talk and start bonding,” he explained.

Sentinel snorted. “Bonding. Yeah, right. Newsflash, you oaf. We’re not here to ‘bond’ and ‘make friends’ with the local! We’re here on a mission!”

“An undercover mission, Sentinel,” Bulkhead nodded grimly. “Which means establishing a cover, because we can’t know how long it’ll take us to fulfill it. And establishing a cover means we need a reason to come here, then try to blend in with the locals.”

“Since when are you an expert about infiltration?” Sentinel asked, feeling annoyed.

“Since I had Blurr coach me about some of the aspects of the work and what do and not to do,” Bulkhead answered simply. “A mech who’s going to be in a place for an unknown length of time must learn to blend in. He needs to set up a public face, to find some sort of employment, then to try and make friends with as many people as possible. He can, for example, frequently go to the bar and drink and play cards with a few mechs. They need to bond some, to create trust. Then, and only then, can he start to really gather intel. People have loose glossas around people they trust; they’re more likely to let little secrets and all kind of info slip in casual conversation if they feel at ease. Basic training,” he shrugged. “I can’t say I did it before, but I trained with Blurr and Cliffjumper for a while before we came here. They seemed satisfied enough by my progresses.” He sounded proud of himself.

Sentinel pursed his lips. Well, as much as he wanted to rant and snort at the other mech, he had to concede that Bulkhead had taken their orders seriously and spend lot of time preparing for the mission. Sentinel hadn’t gone too much into the details of Agri III’s going, too busy looking over any sign of Decepticon activity in this corner of the Commonwealth, but Bulkhead had apparently spend his time looking over agricultural records, as well as reacquainting with farmers on the close Moonbases to better prepare himself. It was hard to attack his professionalism.

Still…

“Were you forced to tell them about that bit with your Uncle? They had no need to know that! It could put all the operation in danger!”

“No,” Bulkhead answered quietly. “On the contrary; it exactly the bit of truth that will give a good basis to our mission. Farmers aren’t suspicious, but some do check facts. So if they ever try and dig a bit, they’ll find out that the property belongs to my Uncle indeed. They’ll find out I learned farming on one of the Moonbase farm, and that I’m a qualified worker. The bit about engaging in the Autobot is secondary; it simply shows that, like many young mechs, I tried something different before coming back to my roots. And that’s what will be important to them. Officially, I was just a low Repair Crew technician -- my name wasn’t released when we bought Megatron back to Cybertron, for security purposes. There’s technically nothing that link me to a ‘war hero’. I’m just your average guy opting out of the Autobots to live a healthier life.”

Damn, but he hated it when the hulking mech was right! Sentinel gritted his teeth. “And my own background? Did you have to downgrade me so much?”

“I’m not the one who chose your ‘official history’,” Bulkhead defended himself. “I had absolutely nothing to do with it! It’s Blurr who suggested it and the Magnus who approved! Beside, it would have looked weird if a lowly technician was romantically involved with an Autobot Officer. You being a secretary for the Deskshop Section of the Elite Guard makes you more… approachable. It helps that you indeed spend a lot of time in-between your promotion as a pencil-pusher for the Elite Guard.”

“I wasn’t a pencil-pusher! I was a Junior Officer… with a desk job,” he allowed, unhappy. “Not my fault my XO at the time thought I needed to learn more about theory before sending me in the field!”

“I’m not saying it was!” Bulkhead defended himself. “It helps, really; if they ever talk to you about filing forms, you’ll know how to answer.” Sentinel grunted and looked too the side, watching the countryside slowly defile.

“Why can’t we just transform and roll out? It would be quicker.”

Bulkhead sighed. “Because farmers don’t use their altmods on the roads, unless they have their energon crystals’ harvest loaded. Altmods are for work, not for travelling.”

“That’s stupid.”

“That the way things are,” Bulkhead told back, optics hardening a bit. “You’ll need to be careful about what you say. Being displeased and a bit rude because you don’t know better is one thing, but to denigrate a whole way of life just because you don’t agree with it is just asking for trouble and unwanted attention,” he warned the other mech.

Sentinel pursed his lips and didn’t say anything for a while. The Zap-Horses were advancing at a good pace, and Bulkhead started humming as they neared the dirt path they had been told about. There was indeed a cluster of tall tree not too far on their left, and squinting, Sentinel was able to make out a roof and walls through the crystalline foliage. Bulkhead pulled on the reins as they came closer, and finally the Zap-horses stopped right before the entrance.

The Prime eyed the house critically. Rather large; two flores. Right in the middle of a large half-circle of trees who plunged the house into a peaceful shade. The house was painted white, with darkly colored shutters, matching the roof. A small construction was placed next to the house, and another two buildings were standing farther away, at a short distance.

“A tool shed, the barn and the henhouse,” Bulkhead explained as he noticed Sentinel frowning in wonder at the additional buildings. I’ll need to check their state before we see for a few mechanimals. Uncle Blocker told me he had managed to get the property taken care of even though he didn’t live here, but you never know,” he said as he got out of the cart.

“I don’t see what’s the point of buying a land if you don’t come live on it,” Sentinel commented as he also got out.

Bulkhead’s lips thinned. “It was first intended as a gift for one of my cousins. It didn’t work out,” he said flatly, and he gave Sentinel a look, daring him to ask further questions. Wisely, the Prime shut up. It didn’t stop him from standing at the door, just under the veranda, with his arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping impatiently on the ground as Bulkhead searched the key in one of his subspace pocket.

“Well, are you going to let us in?” he barked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bulkhead mumbled as he finally found the key. “No need to be in such a hurry.”

Calmly, he opened the door and stood to the side, gallantly letting Sentinel go first.

Dusty, was the first thing that came across Sentinel’s CPU. The whole place was full of dust and dirt. They were standing in a large entrance. Slightly to the left, stairs were leading to the second level. In the back, to the right after the stairs and to the left, they could see open doors; through the one at the back, Sentinel distinguished a couple of furnitures covered by white, dusty sheets. Couches, he deduced from their form. He advanced a bit further in, and Bulkhead leaned over his shoulder, optics darting right and left.

“Right, so… if I remember what my Uncle told me, kitchen is just on our left, and it’s connected to the living room we see in the back. There should also be a small cellar door that leads to another cellar and an office as well as a work room. Second floor has the berthrooms and a washroom,” he mused. “And normally, there’s also an attic. Good house, don’t you think?”

“In poor state,” Sentinel immediately said.

Bulkhead’s shoulders sagged a bit but he just shrugged. “Well, it’s need some cleaning, but I think it’ll be a nice place to live once it’s done.”

Sentinel hummed, not convinced. “If you say so.”

Bulkhead shuffled on his pedes. “Well, I… I’ll just go take our baggages out of the cart and put the Zap-horses in the barn. Why don’t you explore while I do it?” And he hurried outside before Sentinel had a chance to protest.

“Why you…” he mumbled unhappily, before he sighed, vents working hard. Right. Explore. Bulkhead was probably right. They would be here for an unknown among of time, until they managed to find these suspected Decepticon spies, so better he starts to familiarize himself with the house. Sincerely, Sentinel hoped the mission wouldn’t last long. After all, how hard could it be to find and arrest suspicious mechs, especially in a backwater village on a backwater planet?

Okay, so perhaps he was a bit hard with Agri III. It had been drilled into him that the energon farms on the planet were among the most productive of the Commonwealth, and it was known for the good quality of his energon, as well as its devotion to Primus and ambiguous feelings for the Allspark and its power. They recognized the Allspark as an artefact of Primus, probably sent to help suffering population, but themselves totally swore off its use to bring forth new mechs and femmes. Primus had created them with natural procreation in mind first, and no artefact should change it, they claimed.

Silly, really. Personally, Sentinel wasn’t much of a believer; he sometimes attended ceremonies in an official way, as was proper for an Elite Guard Officer, but he wasn’t one to go and pray in the churches anytime. Except, he supposed, he would have to and try if he wanted to… ‘blend in’, given the mindset of the planet’s inhabitants.

He really, really hoped they would catch these Decepticreeps soon. However, he grimly acknowledged that they had few clues.

Three orns ago, Cybertron had intercepted a Decepticon signal coming from Agri III, around the region of Riverbend, one of the main town on the river that ran on a good part of the planet. Before the Intelligence Division was able to identify what exactly the signal was, it had abruptly stopped. One orn later, another signal had been emitted… and this one had enticed a return signal from a Decepticon ship. This time, whatever it was lasted long enough for Intelligence to locate the origin of the beacon in the area surrounding the small Agri III’s farming town called Primus’ Blessing. Inquiries with Agri III’s ruling Council had been fruitless, as they were rather unconcerned by Decepticons. Really, they were more Neutrals than Autobots. Some said it was because they didn’t have much to suffer from the Great War. They had never been bombed, for example, as their energon production had been too important for both side to be risked by anyone.

Still, that Decepticon signal had raised all kind of alarms. Fearing a possible plot to poison the crops or something akin, Cybertron High Council had decided an undercover mission was in order, to unmask possible traitors and spies.

They had needed someone who knew his way about rural life, someone who wouldn’t be suspicious for the locals. And Bulkhead had been chosen. But it had been argued that, despite being a (unrecognized) hero, the large mech wasn’t fit to run such a mission. An Officer was to go with him and assist him, they said.

And for some reasons, they had chosen Sentinel…

Shaking his head, he started to move through the house. It was rather dull and could have used some paint and some decoration. He went to the second floor and quickly inspected the berthrooms. He counted at least five of them, four middle sized ones and a large one with a huge berth. The Master berthroom, then. It was, much to Sentinel annoyance, the only one still fitted with a berth. The other rooms hadn’t had any. It meant he and Bulkhead would have to share the king sized one in the Master berthroom. Joy.

The washroom was just next to it. Sentinel frowned and was a bit displeased to see there weren’t a proper washrack inside. There was a sink with a pump, and a bathtub made of an unknown metal with a hose to fill it. It certainly didn’t fit his personal hygiena criterium, but it would have to do. However, he had to admit privately it wouldn’t be a bad place to live in for a while. As he returned to the entry hall, he caught sight of Bulkhead pulling a large trunk inside.

“So, how’s the rest of the house?” he asked cautiously.

“Acceptable,” Sentinel said simply.

Bulkhead smiled. Well, it was a small victory already, if Sentinel had nothing obviously negative to say. “I’m going to put that stuff in the Master berthroom, if you don’t mind. Then perhaps we can take a cube together and speak,” he asked cautiously.

Sentinel pursed his lips and nodded. “Alright.” He turned away and went to the living room, where he started to take the sheets off the furnitures to judge their state. Well, he had seen worse. They weren’t the nicest he had seen, but he could recognize their qualities. They were sturdy and made to last. The colors were a bit faded and mismatched, and Sentinel thought he would have to see if he could have them repainted or polished. Carefully, he sat down on one of the couches. There were three of them, neatly arranged around a small, low table. A couple of armchairs completed the circle.

“So many… I wonder why?” he muttered.

“For social gathering,” came the answer, and Sentinel almost jumped out of his armor. He hadn’t heard Bulkhead come in. “Farmers’ mates, the Enduras, they often spend their cycles together to sew and knit or spin,” he explained. “Any farmhouse has a large piece that can welcome them and their husbands for reunions, so it’s customary to have a lot of chairs to sit.”

“Ah… good to know. So it means we’ll have to… welcome guests often?”

“Well, in theory. But since we’re newcomers, it would be more appropriate to invite us to their own houses as to give us the time to settle and rearrange the place to suit our needs,” Bulkhead said as he sat down in the couch facing the one Sentinel had settle in. “So, here we are… uh, welcome home?”

Sentinel twitched. “This is hardly home. It is a base of operation.”

Bulkhead shrugged. “Well, yeah… but since we’ll be living here, I think that makes it home alright. So,” he added quickly before Sentinel had a chance to open his mouth, “I think the first thing we need to do tomorrow is go to see the Mayor and the Father.”

Sentinel nodded. “Yes, yes, I suppose seeing the Mayor to present ourselves as… new inhabitants of his village is important, but why see the priest so soon?”

Bulkhead blushed. “Well… we’ll need to organize the bonding ceremony quickly.”

Sentinel paled. He had tried very hard to forget all about it. They were, after all, supposed to pose as a bonded couple, since two unrelated mechs living together without being legally bonded in rural Agri III was unheard of. Of course, they could pretend they were already bonded, but Bulkhead had argued against it the moment it had been suggested.

“It wouldn’t work. The Church of Primus keeps straight, neat records of all the bonding they celebrated. They would notice a fake one right away, and they wouldn’t need too much work either. Just a call to a church we supposedly celebrated our union, and they’ll know we aren’t really a couple. And our bonding wouldn’t be legally recognized by them if we pretended we registered with another church,” he had argued before the Magnus and a couple of mechs who were supervising the preparations for the mission.

“What would you suggest, then?” Ultra Magnus had quietly asked.

Bulkhead had blushed then spoke his mind. “I… It would probably be better to perform a bonding ceremony on Agri III, in Primus’ Blessing’s own church. That way, it would let us better integrate the community while we fill our mission objectives.”

There had been lot of arguing. Especially on Sentinel’s part. No way he was bonding, even for show, with the big oaf! They just would have to find someone else! Except, there was no one else, and Ultra Magnus had left him the choice: the mission and apparent bonding, or ending what was left of his career in the most desolate and isolated outpost the Council could find for him. Tough choice.

Vents working hard, Sentinel gulped as he looked at Bulkhead. “So soon? Is it really necessary?” He was almost pleading.

Bulkhead looked embarrassed and passed one hand behind his helm, rubbing it awkwardly. “Well, perhaps not… but it would be very improper for us to live long together, even as Intended, without a chaperone. People would start thinking of us as morally deviant mechs. Sure, we could ask a priest to come and live with us until we’re ‘ready to bond’, so he can attest of our morality, but since we need to start gathering intel as fast as possible…” he trailed off. Yes, an intruder in the house wasn’t wished. “Beside, a wedding is a big event in small villages like this one. Every inhabitants should come to wish us well, so it would be a perfect way to start meeting everymech in town and dig for the ones who are most suspicious.”

Presented like it, it made sense… But it didn’t help Sentinel calm down. He crossed his legs nervously. “R… Right.” It could help the mission go faster. But still…

“Why must I be the… the Endura? I’m your Superior Officer, I should be the Conjunx!” he exclaimed, trying to not let Bulkhead see just how ill-at-ease he was.

Bulkhead shook his head and sighed. “We talked about it already. At length. Several times. You can’t be a credible Conjunx, Sentinel. You know nothing of energon farms, or of the proper way to behave in a farmer community like this one. My build alone qualify me as an ideal Conjunx; though you’re nicely build and have a great altmod for farming, you remain smaller and more… delicate than me. And your a city mech; given how reluctant you appear to be here, it wouldn’t be credible in the least. And, even if we decided to change now, it would not be possible, as I’m fairly sure Nightglow noticed your engagement necklace.”

Sentinel glanced at the thing around his neck. Really, it was magnetized to his frame, having of necklace only the name. The red jewel, some kind of ruby, was glinting softly as it caught a ray of light. The circle of gold it was encased in just added to the quiet beauty it inspired. “I don’t see the point in wearing it, really,” he said, grunting. Sure, it was a pretty trinket, but Sentinel felt it was more trouble than it was worth.

“It’s to let other ‘bots know you’re taken for,” Bulkhead explained, “and that you’ve agreed to a bond already. Self respecting mechs, even if they find you attractive, won’t go after you since you’re almost bonded already. And it allows you some leeway in your demeanor. It’s a proof I know you well and can understand and excuse your social faux pas. People will readily believe me if I tell them anything about you, for it’s clear proof that you’re my bonded to be.”

“And what would you tell them?” Sentinel asked suspiciously.

“That you had to leave a job you loved to come here, and that you’re very unsettled because you know almost next to nothing to farm work. Which is technically true, after all.”

Sentinel grunted and didn’t comment.

“So… Mayor, Priest and then the rest of the villagers?” Bulkhead asked helpfully.

Sentinel shrugged, trying to appear uninterested. “Sure, I guess. Well, if you haven’t anything more to say, I’m going to recharge.”

“Hum, good night?” the large mech said.

Sentinel stopped at the door. “Bulkhead?” he asked. “I’ve… read how the Church of Primus celebrate bondings.”

“Uh, yes?”

“... It seems that I can’t escape… interfacing with you for the sake of the mission.” His body shook in revulsion and fear and perhaps, just perhaps, a little of desire. Bulkhead nodded slowly, not daring to speak. “I know I can’t escape it, if only to keep the appearances. But let’s be clear, it will be the only time. Got it?”

And without waiting for an answer, he left and almost climbed the stairs running.

Staying alone, Bulkhead’s optics shuttered several time rapidly. “Uh… Either he didn’t read much about farmers’ life… or someone really messed up his debriefing,” he muttered.

Oh, it was so going to be NOT fun when Sentinel realized exactly the truth of the matter…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some background infos; more will be added as we met more characters and are faced with Sentinel's discoveries.
> 
> **Geography:** Story takes place on the small planet of Agri III, in the Autobot Commonwealth, at some distance of Athenia. The action is situated in the village of Primus' Blessing, near the town of Riverbend, on the Erian River.
> 
> **Lexicon and Background infos:**
> 
>  
> 
> Conjunx: the 'husband' in a Bonded couple  
> Endura: the 'wife' in a Bonded couple
> 
> • **Conjunx and Endura:** As a general rule, the Conjunx is always the physically strongest of the pair. Most Conjunx end up being hulking mechs who tower over their smaller mates. As such, it’s rare for a Minibot or a Femme, who are physically weaker, to become a Conjunx, though it can happen.  
>  The Conjunx is head of the household and do the heavy work around the farm, like seeding and watering the fields, making sure every fields receive regular amount of pesticides and fertilizers, and harvesting the crops. He also makes sure to eliminate the pests who prey on the growing crops and farm mechanimals, helped by trained cyberdogs. The Endura can assist him for ploughing and the general care of the fields, such as weeding, but the fields are first and foremost the Conjunx’s responsibility.  
> The Endura’s duties are to keep the house clean and in order, to cook for his/her mate, his/her sparklings and his/her guests, to spin, sew and knit, to milk the ChronoCows and gather the Robo-chickens eggs. Endura also buy the groceries on the market and picking wild items like mushrooms and berry. Anything not used by the couple is sold on the local market by themselves or given as gifts and token of affection to neighbors and close friends. Large harvest and homemade products are usually sent to Riverbend to be sold off.  
> Enduras usually do the sewing/spinning/knitting together, as to spend some time with their neighbors and friends, though it’s rare all of them come to these gathering (presence varies following the workload they have on their own farms).  
> Though it is the traditional way, things can be different for a number of couples...
> 
>  
> 
> **Couples and Residences:**
> 
> Bulkhead and Sentinel; live in Shady Acres  
> Farrier and Nightglow; live in Happy Vale
> 
>  
> 
> **Mechanimals:**
> 
> Zap-Horses


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulkhead and Sentinel Bond...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of the Bonding ceremony; there'll be more. ;)
> 
> See the notes at the end of the chapters for more infos on the background and the characters.

Everybody was busy at the Temple today.

Nightglow was positively gushing as his fellow Enduras chatted and worked together. Standing on a stool, Sentinel, the new arrival and bride of Bulkhead, was blushing and trying very hard not to fidget as Rennet and Roller adjusted the two superposed petticoats, one red and one white, that would form Sentinel’s wedding dresses first layer.

The dress was being worked on by no less than four Enduras -- Apis, Pollen, Furrow and Moonshift -- who were making embroideries along the bottom edge, on the train and upon the sleeves. The white fabric was pure and flawless, and the red threads of the embroidery symbolized passion and love. Next to them, Mistcover was busy finishing the lace veil that would adorn Sentinel. Sitting in the corner, very concentrated on her task, Greenlight was making the accompanying panties that Sentinel would wear under the dress and petticoats, all made in red knitted lace.

“Really,” he mumbled, “You shouldn’t give yourself so much trouble, I can just use a plain dress…”

“Nonsense, my good mech!” claimed Shimmersun, a yellow and cream mech as he finished his latest embroidery. “On such a day, you must be as beautiful as possible! You’ll get the time to wear plain dress later!” Everyone in the room nodded and cheered at that.

Leaning toward yet another Endura, Safepath, the co-Endura of Mayor Levitacus, Nightglow smiled. “I really don’t know how to thank you for your generous donation, Safepath. When Sentinel told me he was thinking about just wearing a normal dress on his bonding day… I do understand him and his Intended prefer to save money for the farm, but really, I thought it would be a crime to let it happen on such a special day!”

Safepath nodded vigorously. “You tell me! A wedding dress must be special! For such an happy occasion, nothing is too much. And really, it was nothing. We’re just lucky Spindle had just came back with our chargement of helio-cotton.”

“Won’t you miss hit, though?” Sentinel called out to them as he had overheard their conversation. “I wouldn’t be bother, really…” he said as he winced, probably stung by Rennet’s needle as he finished sewing a sequin on the white petticoat.

“Nonsense, dear!” Safepath exclaimed. “We already have reserves. Why, we had thought about selling that helio-cotton anyway. My Conjunx, my co-Endura and I are happy to offer it to you for the making of your Bonding dress,” he smiled. “We really want you to feel welcome to Primus’ Blessing. I’m a bit sad we couldn’t get you anything better than helio-cotton, though. Electrosheep’s yarn was just too plain to be used and I’m sorry we couldn’t offer you any CaesiumSilk; it would have made an even more beautiful dress…” he sighed.

“You… already did more than what was necessary,” Sentinel said. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he added after a beat.

Safepath laughed. “Don’t think too much about it, dear. Just enjoy yourself; this is your day,” he said fondly as he waved and went back to check on the sparklings gathered and playing outside.

Sentinel seemed to eye warily everything around him. He watched with most intensity the confection of the dress, as if he was worried. “Are you feeling alright, Sentinel?” Nightglow asked him as he took in a particularly worried glance.

The blue mech seemed a bit startled by the question, as if he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had forgotten where he was. “Y… Yes, perfectly alright,” he said quickly. “I…” he hesitated. “Perhaps I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he finished lamely. “I… hadn’t expected things to go so fast. When Bulkhead said we should… bond... as soon as possible, I had thought it would take, I don’t know, a good orn to organize everything. Not three solar-cycles.”

Some of the Enduras who heard him chuckled or exchanged amused looks. Nightglow grinned. “Well, it’s normal you two are legally bonded as soon as possible, as you already share a roof. Father Spica is always ready to celebrate a new bonding, and we” he said, gesturing at all the mechs and femmes present in the room, “were most delighted to hear there was something we could do to help you and your wonderful Intended settle down in our little village.”

“Dont you worry about anything, dear,” Runnet added as he smiled at Sentinel. “We’ll take care of everything. You’ll just have to enjoy your bonding. I trust it will be wonderful… But of course, you must already know how it will feel like,” he added with a small smile.

Sentinel blinked. “Excuse me?”

“He means that you probably already had the occasion to fool around with Bulkhead before,” Roller said diplomatically as he finished sewing a last sequin. “And that you’ll only be happier to finally be bonded so you can fully enjoy your love.”

Sentinel flustered. “Ah, uh… Bulkhead and I… well, we never… didittogetheruntilnow,” he said very quickly. He seemed very disturbed.

Nightglow’s optics widened and he clapper. “Is that so? So it’ll be your first time? How wonderful!”

“Uh… yeah, yeah, wonderful,” Sentinel muttered, cheeks heated.

Sentinel fell silent, and conversations roused as the Enduras all worked. Nightglow watched everything with attention and made a few more tries to start a conversation with Sentinel, but the ‘bot just grunted or gave short answer. He really didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood at all. He must have felt so nervous and overwhelmed, Nightglow thought with sadness.

The black and light blue mech didn’t know much of what city bots wedding were like, but he did understand that it usually took time to schedule a ceremony. Here, it could be done fast, if the circumstances allowed it, like now. Things had probably progressed faster than Sentinel had thought, and even if he must have impatient to legally becoming Bulkhead’s Bonded, he was probably worried about the suddenness of the event. Combined with a generosity from his fellow farmers that he probably hadn’t expected, it was normal he tried to be quiet. Well, Nightglow would try to make him feel even more welcome so he would lost this little frown and crossed expression he often seemed to have!

“Nightglow?” someone called from the door. Turning, the mech saw Sterling, Doctor Counterstep’s Endura, who had come in. “My Conjunx is here. Can you send Sentinel? He’s ready to remove his valve cover.”

“Wait, what?!” Sentinel almost shrieked, turning. It makes several Enduras pause in their work and turn to look at him. “Why do you mean, remove my valve cover?! I certainly won’t!”

Nightglow blinked. “Well, of course it must be removed! It always is removed before the bonding ceremony!” he exclaimed. Citybot, he reminded himself and reminded the others with placating gesture. Sentinel was a Citybot, a Cybertronian. None of them ever wore clothes, so even when bonded, their submissive partners probably always kept their valve cover on. Sentinel didn’t know any better. Still, how silly from Bulkhead to not have told his mate he wouldn’t need his panel anymore once they bonded!

“I won’t remove it,” Sentinel groused, arms crossed over his chest.

“But you must, Sentinel. It’s an important part of the Bonding Ceremony. You have your panel removed so you can present your bare components to your Conjunx and to Primus, as a show of readiness to become an Endura. You just cover them with a panty in the meanwhile,” he tried to placate and explain the irritated mech.

Sentinel’s optics went hard for a moment, then he made several faces, obviously enraged, then weirded out, then distraught before finally sighing. “... Alright,” he allowed, rather unhappy. “Alright, I’ll have it removed, since it’s the custom. Where to…?” he trailed off, obviously fighting to remember Sterling’s name. It was excusable; they had barely crossed path the day before and hadn’t been officially presented. that would come later today at the wedding feast.

Sterling bowed slightly. “I’m Sterling, dear. Follow me, please,” he said as Sentinel got down of the stool.

“I’m coming with you,” Nightglow announced as he went along, placing himself behind Sentinel. He was sure Sentinel would like to see a known face while he was being prepared for the ceremony. Just as he was about to leave, Greenlight called out to him.

“Here,” she said. “I just finished them. Right on time,” she smiled.

Nightglow nodded his thanks and followed the other two mechs outside. As it was, they didn’t have to go far. Counterstep had installed himself two rooms down the hall, in one of the unoccupied berthroom. Good choice, Nightglow supposed. It would allow Sentinel to lie down during the process, which would be more comfortable for him. The Doctor’s was busy choosing screwdrivers as they entered. Sterling, in unhurried steps, joined his Conjunx and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. The Doctor’s optics glowed brightly, and Nightglow almost sighed in pleasure. Such a nice couple! It made him want to be back in Farrier’s arms already.

“Hello there, Sentinel, Nightglow,” the Doctor nodded at them. Both mechs returned his welcome, Nightglow with more cheer than Sentinel. “Well, time to proceed. Sentinel, if you could lie down…?” he asked, gesturing toward the berth.

Sentinel vented deeply and with unsteady steps, reached the berth and sat down. All three mechs present gave him encouraging smiles as he arranged his body and lay still. “Good, very good,” Counterstep said in a soothing voice, knowing his patient was nervous. “Now, if you could part your legs and lift your knees?” Sentinel did so, making the petticoats slide down toward his waist, giving the Doctor a good look of his crotch plating. Politely, knowing it would embarrass and agitate Sentinel even more if they looked, Sterling and Nightglow turned their gaze away. Counterstep hummed a bit as he took in the plating. “Hmm… yes, yes, I see. Simple system, nothing too complicated to remove. Give me a klik,” he said as he gave Sentinel an encouraging smile. He took one of the nearby screwdriver and held it for Sentinel to see. “See? It’s the only tool I’ll need. It’ll be absolutely painless. Just give me a few kliks and it will be over. Now, try to part your legs wider and relax, please?”

Sentinel mumbled something back and though he didn’t watch him, Nightglow heard the ruffle of the helio-cotton petticoats as Sentinel shifted. Counterstep bend forward, screwdriver ready.

As he had promised, it only took a few kliks. “There. All done,” he said proudly. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It feels weird,” Sentinel said quietly as he sat up and crossed his legs. His cheeks were still flushed, Nightglow noticed as he came closer.

“It always does at first,” he said, trying to reassure the future Endura. “You get used to it rapidly. Now, I think it’s time you put that on,” he said, handing Sentinel the lace panty Greenlight had knitted specially for the ceremony.

Sentinel took it warily and held it with precaution, frowning. “Why should I wear it? And why is there a hole in it? There’s no… crotch,” he said with a frown. “Is that normal?”

“Yes, it is normal. It’s a traditional undergarment,” Sterling explained soothingly before Sentinel had a chance to open his mouth to ask more questions. “The hole allows your Conjunx to slide his spike inside your valve without having to remove the panties. The panties themselves are here to help you retain some modesty under your dress, even as the dress mark you as an Endura,” he said patiently, quoting the old information passed down from one generation to another.

The mention of his future Conjunx’s spike made Sentinel redder. “R… Right,” he gulped. “Uh… can you turn while I put them on?” he said, making a face.

“Of course,” Counterstep said immediately as he turned. Sterling and Nightglow exchanged a look and did so too. Nightglow stared the Doctor for a breem; normally, he shouldn’t have stopped at removing the panel. Something should also had been done for Sentinel’s spike as well. But Counterstep made a gesture and they didn’t question him. Perhaps Bulkhead and Sentinel had chosen to wait for this part? As it was, their wedding was already rushed along, so they must have decided to concentrate on other matters first…

The ruffle of the petticoats alerted them Sentinel was done, and they turned back to him. Slowly, the blue mech rose to his pedes and gave them a wary look.

“So… what next?”

Nightglow smiled. “Now? Now we go back to the other Enduras and put you in your dress -- the others must have finished it by now. Then we wait for Father Spice and the rest of the clergymechs to call you to the altar with your Intended. In a matter of cycles,” he said with a grin, “you’ll be bonded.”

Sentinel smiled shakily...

***************************

The dress wasn’t looking half-bad on Sentinel, Bulkhead mused as he glances at his… well, his bride. His Endura. Wow. Who would have thought? When he had left his creators’ energon farm on Moonbase II and got in Autoboot Camp in the hope of becoming a real Space Bridge Technician, he has never thought he would have one, ever. Sure, it was only supposed to be for the mission, but still… An Endura! And he was going to be working on a farm! He… had missed it. The lifestyle, the mechanimals, the glittering energon crystals,... He dearly loved his team, and he loved his job as Space Bridge Technician, but it wasn’t exactly the same. The farm was in his programming, in the core of his mind. If only there was a way to conciliate both his love of Space Bridges and the farm life he had enjoyed so much as a youngling and wished to enjoy now, he would take it right away.

“... And as Primus gazes upon us, I’m sure he can only be delighted at the love of Bulkhead and Sentinel, here today to bond before him, swearing eternal fidelity to each other…” the head priest, Father Spica, was saying in his sermon. Bulkhead listened only half of what was being said, too busy staring at Sentinel.

Bulkhead had been cleaned and polished and his plating had a nice shine to hit, but it was nothing very special. But Sentinel… Seriously, Sentinel was looking rather good in his first dress. The helio-cotton was immaculate, aside of the intricate crystal-leafs embroideries; it showed that the Enduras who had worked on the dress had put their Sparks in it. The veil was also beautifully done, with crystal-flowers patterns, covering Sentinel’s face and running down his back almost to his waist. It was maintained in place by two red ribbons tied to the blue mech’s antennas. Bulkhead found it cute and he was barely refraining himself to play with them. The Prime’s hands were tightened around a bouquet of fresh crystal-flowers, RubidiumRoses and TungstenLilies, which symbolized love and faithfulness for most farmers. Sentinel was keeping his optics down, and it was a good attitude in front of the Priest who was… Bonding them. But really, it would have been nicer without the frown the blue mech wore.

Thankfully, no one noticed. Father Spica was too busy talking to the crowd in their back -- all the town was here! -- and the Sisters, who had presented themselves as Ara and Alhena, were too busy praying themselves for Primus to give the newly bonding couple lot of happiness. He didn’t know where the two Pastors were; probably putting the traditional gifts on Primus’ second altar -- Sentinel’s valve cover, some of Bulkhead’s transfluid in a precious bowl, thirteen bouquets of various flowers and crops from the Temple’s ground. They would remain here for the day, while the main altar was to be used for the Bonding itself.

For interfacing for the very first time with Sentinel.

Bulkhead felt his fuel tank drop a bit.

Now, don’t get him wrong. He didn’t find Sentinel unattractive. Sure, his chin was a bit large, but not the largest Bulkhead had ever seen. And he had a nice body, especially for someone of farmer background; his shoulders alone, strong and sturdy, would make many young farmer offsprings sigh dreamingly. His plow altmod was also a bonus. His aft and tiny waist, however, would make many burly mechs consider him with even more interest. Bulkhead had never thought of it when he has first met the mech. After all, he was his Drill Sergeant. And besides… for all his physical attractiveness, Sentinel could be a real douche bag.

He wasn’t Bulkhead first choice of Endura… if he had really been about to bond for real, that is. Had it been ‘for real’, Bulkhead would have rather chosen a nicer mech, even if not as pretty. Somewhere, he had hoped that the Intelligence Division could find someone else to take Sentinel’s place, but Optimus was too much into the public optic to disappear, most qualified agents were already on other missions, scrambling to check what damages Shockwave might have done to the Division and its network, and the mech who had to accompany him had to be an Officer. As it was, Sentinel was an Officer, and needed to get out of the public optic for a while, since he wasn’t very well-liked by a lot of people. So it had fallen on him.

Sure, he remained Bulkhead’s Superior Officer, but the green mech had been told in no uncertain terms that he was allowed ‘carte blanche’ to make sure the mission ran smoothly, for he was the expert here, not Sentinel, who was mostly providing a good cover. So Sentinel could protest as much as he wanted, but it was Bulkhead who held the reins on most matters.

It didn’t help to endear him to the Prime, he knew. Sentinel wasn’t happy with much now, what with having to step down as temporary Magnus and almost losing his Prime title and rank. Having to go on an undercover mission with a mech he obviously cared little for wasn’t helping. However, Sentinel was a professional, a workaholic who loved his job and was ready to do anything for his career. Despite being unhappy and unwilling to really play the part, he would do his best, of that Bulkhead and the High Command were sure. If a mission meant he could perhaps salvage a bit more of his honor and job… well, he would do what was needed.

Who knew, maybe Bulkhead would manage to make the Prime like him a little by the end of it?

“... And thus, Primus, allow these two mechs to fully live their love. Allow them to honor you and serve you to the best of their abilities. Allow them to bond before you, so you know their love is indeed a pure and great one. Allow them to become one before you,” Father Spica finished raising his hands toward the sky while starting to hum. Behind Bulkhead and Sentinel, the crowd picked on the tune and started humming. After a few breems, they started singing. The traditional bonding song. There they were. It was time.

Swallowing, Bulkhead reached out for Sentinel, offering him his hand to take. Hesitantly, and obviously very nervous, the Prime took it and allowed Bulkhead to take the first step toward the Altar. They progressed slowly toward it. Bulkhead kept his optics focused on the Altar. It was large, made of a large chunk of white rock and covered with marble. The sides were carved, depicting the first Thirteen created by Primus, and right above them, quotes from the Holy Datapad had been engraved. A beautiful Altar, nicer than the one in his old hometown, he decided.

A step. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps. They were standing right in front of it. Carefully, Bulkhead lifted the veil obscuring Sentinel’s face. The smaller mech was gulping nervously and was even shaking. Gently, Bulkhead slide a hand behind his back and another under his aft to lift him and put him on the Altar. Then, after making Sentinel sit, he climbed on it too. With care, he spread Sentinel’s legs on either side of his, so he could kneel between them. With slow, deliberate moves, he started to lift and push back the skirt of the dress as well as the petticoats, finally catching sight of Sentinel’s barely covered valve. The red panties were sweet to look at, he mused absently. But what they hide was even more enticing. Sentinel was shaking, and Bulkhead gently pushed him down so his back would lie flat on the marble altar.

He examined his ‘mate’ with attention. He had a pretty good sight of the edge of the valve, and it made his engine rev in lust. Now, Bulkhead wasn’t a bot who would frag the first valve offered, but how long had it been since he had last interfaced? Their team hadn’t been into casual interfacing, and Bulkhead seldom frequented the bars on Cybertron, where picking up a lover for the night cycle was easy. To just bury himself in the bared valve presented to him… a valve he had every right to as a Conjunx… Oh Primus, yes!

But he couldn’t just do it, could he? Sentinel had said several times over he wasn’t a virgin, and the Elite Guard medics had confirmed it, but he had also admitted it had been a while since he last took a spike in his valve too. This meant he would be tight. Very, very tight, especially given how large Bulkhead knew he was. And with his apparent uneasiness, he probably wasn’t well lubricated yet.

Well, interfacing wasn’t all about pounding in one bonded valve. He was going to help Sentinel relax some first.

He leaned over Sentinel, making a show of drowning him under kisses, while they held a quick whispered conversation.

“Relax. I’ll make it as good as I can,” Bulkhead breathed as he lapped Sentinel’s cheek.

The Prime whined audibly and made a show of turning his head away toward the wall. “I don’t care for good! Are they going to watch? Nobody told me about everybody watching!” he whispered back, trying not to show just how nervous and perturbed he was by the whole idea.

“Yes they will, they’ll stand witness that we’re legally and properly bonded. And I will make it good,” he said in a murmur as he kissed Sentinel on the lips passionately. Or as passionately as he could. He propped himself on his elbows and shifted, so that he could go down a bit, just so his head was at Sentinel’s valve level.

He needed to relax and to get lubricated. Bulkhead’s claws were too big to properly finger him, especially now. So some oral was definitely in order.

Burying his head between Sentinel’s thighs, he started licking at the small, tight valve. Sentinel cried out in surprise as he did so and tried to jerk away. Bulkhead easily caught him by the waist to hold him in place, and licked the valve opening with more ardor. Every few licks, he pushed his glossa inside the valve to try and taste the lubricants which were starting to smooth it and made it easier to penetrate. Sometimes, he kissed the valve’s edges, or sucked on them. His face was buried in the panties’ soft fabric. All the while, Sentinel kept making noise, loud pleasured sounds, most of which Bulkhead thought weren’t faked. It made his spark swell with pride, and behind his panel, he could feel his spike stiffen. He send the command to release it out of his housing, and it rose, large and proud and ready to pound into the mech he was orally ravaging.

“Uh… Ah… ah… oooooh,” Sentinel moaned, his hands grasping at Bulkhead’s helm. Bulkhead shook his head free after a few more licks, now pleased with the large amount of lubricant Sentinel had produced. When the other mech had said he hadn’t fragged in a long while, he wasn’t kidding; if only a few moments with a glossa to his valve sufficed to send it in that state…

His grip over Sentinel’s waist changed. He shifted, moving up so he could line his bride’s valve with the tip of his spike. As he caught sight of it, Sentinel’s optics widened and his mouth dropped in shock.

“That… Large…” he articulated. “It will not fit,” he whispered worriedly and tried to close his legs. Bulkhead’s firm hands moves to keep his thighs spread apart, however, and the green mech kissed him.

“It’ll fit, Sentinel. Just trust me.”

Sentinel gave him a panicked and weird look. He didn’t quite trust Bulkhead, after all, but the large mech didn’t care. The Bonding needed to be consummated, and it needed to be consummated now, before he overloaded on top of Sentinel. It would have been bad manners at the very least; a Conjunx was supposed to overload in his Endura’s valve before anything else. Carefully, he aligned his spike with Sentinel’s valve once more, and pressed the tip against the edge of the valve, ready to thrust in. The crotchless panties allowed him such an easy access… he completely understood why they had become so popular in the last thirty vorns; so much easier and discreet than to have to remove a pair of full one before fragging!

Sentinel made a small mewl of fear, and Bulkhead leaned forward to claim his lips with his owns. Then as he totally covered Sentinel’s mouth, he started to thrust in. Sentinel’s initial shriek upon the penetration was muffled by Bulkhead’s lips, and the gentle giant started to play with his glossa to try and calm him. He kept thrusting his spike in, inch by inch, slowly, very slowly, giving Sentinel’s body the time to adjust as his valve stretched almost painfully around Bulkhead’s length. The Prime grasped the Space Bridge Technician’s shoulders with shaking hands, but his grip was still strong. Bulkhead cut out the kiss and he allowed himself to grunt as he continued to thrust. Sentinel, for his part, kept making small moans. They were nice to listen to. Much nicer than the usual barbs or spiteful comments the Prime was known to make.

At long last, he finally stopped moving. His whole spike sat nicely inside Sentinel’s valve. It felt hot and wet and so good and tight! He didn’t think he had a valve so tight before! Then again, he had usually interfaced with mechs closer to his size or bulk, and Sentinel was neither. If smaller bots all felt so amazing around a spike, then he understood why so many people sung their merits.

“You see, it fit,” he whispered to Sentinel as the mech turned pale optics toward him. The mech looked to be in a haze, a pleasant one. His valve rippled around Bulkhead’s rod for a moment, making the both of them keen in pleasure. Why, Sentinel looked beautiful like that, Bulkhead thought dazedly. He wanted to see more of that expression. Slowly, he started to pull his spike back, making Sentinel keen and grasp his shoulders with more strength. He had started to shake again, and Bulkhead started to lavish him with kisses as he slide more of his length out. He was halfway out before he started to push back inside. The effects on Sentinel were instantaneous. He threw his head back in a cry of pleasure as the spike rubbed against sensor nodes, lighting them ablaze.

“Yes, cry for me Sentinel,” Bulkhead whispered, once again starting to pull out to better push back inside.

“Oh… ooooooh… oooooh… Bulk… Bulkhead,” Sentinel cried out. His legs bound themselves around the large green mech’s waist just as his hands grasped with even more strength, to the point of almost denting the armor. He held for dear life as he was pounded in a sweet, tortuous pace. Bulkhead was slow and methodical, not wanting to damage the smaller mech. They could be a bit faster when they would complete the bonding at the farm, but here and now, it was sweet and slow.

In and out, out and in, Bulkhead continued thrusting, grunting and groaning and panting as he enjoyed the feeling of Sentinel’s tight valve around him, just as he enjoyed the prideful mech reduced to moaning in dazed pleasure in his arms. He didn’t forget, though to continue kissing Sentinel, small pecks on the cheeks and forehead and chin and in the neck, and languorous, deep kisses on the mouth.

Far too soon, or at least a part of him thought so, he felt Sentinel’s valve tighten strongly around him, just as Sentinel shouted, overloading. With a grunt and three more thrusts in the now too tight port, Bulkhead came too, spilling transfluid deep inside Sentinel’s body and its reproducing chamber. Panting, he fell down on the Altar, pinning Sentinel under him.

As they were laying, gathering their strength, Bulkhead started to become more and more aware of cheers and applauses. He turned his head toward the crowd. So caught up in the moment, he had even forgotten they were here. Bulkhead gave them a shaky smile as he pulled out of Sentinel, the valve gushing with his transfluid, staining the edge of the crotchless panties.

Father Spica raised a hand, calling for silence, and the crowd quieted down.

The emerald green mech clapped his hand together before him and bowed deeply.

“And such, these two mechs have consummated their love before Primus himself, in his Temple, before God and mechs. We now recognize them as a Bonded, as Conjunx and Endura, until death set them apart. Welcome to our community and in married life.”

The crowd cheered again, and Bulkhead smiled more frankly.

Beneath him, Sentinel raised an optic ridge. “So? Are you going to move now?”

And with that, Bulkhead’s good mood dropped a bit; trust Sentinel to rain down on the parade...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lexicon and Background infos:**
> 
> Conjunx: the 'husband' in a Bonded couple  
> Endura: the 'wife' in a Bonded couple
> 
> • **On monogamy and polygamy:** farmers are monogamous; adultery is not well considered and even severely punished. Still, in some case, polygamy is accepted; like, if a farmer owns a very large land, he may be allowed, after discussion with the priests and a special authorisation from the church of Primus, to take a second bride so he can get more sparklings who will eventually help him make the farm prosper. Only very rich land owners do so. Primus’ Blessing’s Mayor is one of them.
> 
> **Couples, Characters and Residences in Primus' Blessing:**  
>  Ok, let's post all the couples right now. I'll add the last ones later. :)
> 
> Father Spica; the head Priest in Primus' Blessing
> 
> Bulkhead and Sentinel; live at Shady Acres  
> Farrier and Nightglow; live at Happy Vale  
> Levitacus, Yoke and safepath; live at Bright Crystal  
> Counterstep and Sterling; live at Peaceful Rest  
> Lancer and Greenlight; live at Sighing Brook  
> Steamroller and Rennet; live at Harmony Grove  
> Cultivator and Apis; live at Breezy Heights  
> Huller and Pollen; live at Fruitful Orchard  
> Tidalwave and Moonshift; live at Mirror Lake  
> Baler and Scythe; live at Sweet Dale  
> Rookwall and Lifespring; live at Dreamer's Hollow  
> Steelflail and Furrow; live at Serene Meadows  
> Stillbarel and Dewdrop; live at Foggy Bottom  
> Quarterstaff and Tiller; live at Whispering River  
> Groundsplint and Roller; live at Mill Stream  
> Auger and Mistcover; live at Rippling River  
> Brimstone and Shock; live at Glimmer Pond  
> Smokefall and Shimmersun; live at Cheerful Creek


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bonding ceremony reachs its end, and Sentinel discovers the local diet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding continues and ends here. ;)

Getting carried all the way was really starting to get on his CPU, Sentinel thought as Bulkhead continued to walk down the road leading to the… their farm. It was pretty much undignified, in his opinion. He was perfectly able to walk, thank you very much!... Even if his valve was, perhaps, throbbing a bit, and his knees were still a bit weak. But he could have walked alright!

But no, neither Bulkhead nor the almost three dozens of mechs and femmes who had assisted to the ceremony had allowed him to even set a pedes on the ground. The moment he had managed to sit up on the Altar once the oaf who had… Well, once the oaf had gotten of him, said oaf had gathered him in his arms and promptly carried him out of the Temple and down the dusty roads of the countryside, immediately followed by the Head Priest and the cheering crowd.

Ridiculous, Sentinel thought as he shifted in Bulkhead’s arms as they passed the barrier delimiting the Shady Acres farm. The whole thing was perfectly absurd; why did these mechs had to make things so complicated for a Bonding ceremony? On Cybertron, there would just have been a quiet prayer with a priest, a few symbolic gestures before friends who would have come to witness the event, and the Priest would have made them sign a register before sending a copy of the page to some Archives Division. Agri III’s folks were all about utterly ceremonial stuffs… and displeasingly kinky ones, he mused as he squeezed his legs together, trying not to wince at the sharp bolt of pain that went through his valve as he did so. Bulkhead might have been slow and careful and whatnot, but he still had been huge, and even if… things had felt pleasant on the moment, now Sentinel wasn’t pleased at all.

Really, Sentinel didn’t know what was the worse so far: the dress, the public fragging he just received for the sake of the mission, or the absence of his valve cover. He didn’t understand why an ‘Endura’ just HAD to wear a dress; the thing was quite silly, and impractical. The only saving grace he found in his own was that it hide his lack of panel, and that no one at the Temple had managed to catch a real glimpse of his valve because of it. Asides of Bulkhead, of course. Sentinel stiffened a bit in Bulkhead’s hold and looked at him. The mech was looking right in front of him, optics focused on the house and not on him. Good; he didn’t think he would be quite able to look at the other mech in the optics after he had lost control like that on the Altar. Frag, but who would have thought the oaf knew how to use his glossa like that?

The crotchless panties they had insisted he wear were still a bit damp with half-dried fluids and condensation. Ugh. He was going to thrown them away at the first occasion. Or perhaps burn them; yes, burning sounded good. However, as long as his cover was missing, he had nothing else to hide his bare valve -- and hiding was a big word; it barely covered anything! -- and he didn’t quite feel like the dress was sufficient. At least, he consoled himself, their fabric was smooth and didn’t irritate him. He could live with it, he supposed, but nobody better tell him he ought to enjoy wearing these ridicule things. Hopefully, he thought, no one on Cybertron would ever know about either of this.

Nor would they hear of that he had taken a simpleton Repair Crew mech’s spike and overloaded hard as it pounded into him. Ugh. His reputation would be forever ruined if someone learned he had interfaced with someone like that -- hero of Cybertron or not. Thankfully, Intelligence kept their glossas when it came to his operations, so he was safe from rumors and mockeries.

He wasn’t safe, however, from another fragging.

Frag the Church of Primus and its insistence of two-parts bonding! The arms he had passed around Bulkhead’s neck during the walk tightened briefly as he took sight of the farm. The two floor house’s front door was wide open, seemingly waiting for the ‘newly wedded couple’. Sentinel looked over Bulkhead’s shoulder, noticing that the crowd was spreading behind them. Some were heading for a couple of metal sheets and trestles who a large mech by the name of Tidalwave had brought by the day before to dress tables for the traditional wedding feast. another thing that didn’t exist on Cybertron; couples who chose to bond usually enjoyed a quiet refueling together in their home or at a bar. Honestly, Sentinel didn’t know why they insisted on a feast.

Other mechs were unfolding chairs. Mechs and femmes in dress were herding toward a nearby empty pasture the sparklings and younglings who were starting to run around screaming and laughing. There really were a lot of them, Sentinel noticed. Much more than the number of couples who were obviously present. Hmm, perhaps they had come before or instead of their parents? Bulkhead had insisted heavily on how loaded a work day was on a prosperous energon farm. Well, whatever. They weren’t his main concern.

His main concern was the handful of mechs and femmes who were following Bulkhead and him inside. Sentinel caught some of them looking at him with large grins and he ducked his head away to hide his face against Bulkhead’s neck, feeling silly for doing so. He heard a few chuckles and it made him grimace.

“Aww, Sentinel, don’t be so shy,” the large green mech said to him, amused. Sentinel gave him a glare, and the larger mech lost some of his cheer and coughed a bit in embarrassment. “I meant… well, I meant nothing.” He paused at the bottom of the stairs. Both he and Sentinel looked up and exchanged a look.

Father Spica walked to them with a smile. “And here we are, my sons. It is time for you to complete your bonding. Once you get out of the nuptial berthroom --” He didn’t notice how Sentinel flinched at the words “-- you will officially be recognized as Goodmech and Goodwife. May Primus favors you and allow you to conceive a sparkling in this joyful occasion” he said, bowing.

Ugh. It almost made him shudder. No, no way. No way Sentinel was ever carrying a sparkling. He didn’t dislike sparklings, per say -- the Jettwins were barely better than sparklings themselves, and he appreciated them alright, especially when they seemed to be in awe before him -- but sparklings were… well, they were noisy, they were fussy, they were distracting, they were a pain to deal with on regular basis and they were time-consuming. A hard working mech like Sentinel had no time for a sparkling. Perhaps, someday, if the Allspark still gave them newsparks, he would take one under his wing and raise it as his own, but he had no desire to raise one from protoform to final upgrade. Nope. None. And he didn’t plan to accidentally carry either. That’s why, when he had been told he would have to interface with Bulkhead for the sake of the mission, he had taken the precaution to take contraceptives with him. They were, Sentinel knew, normally forbidden and banned from the planet, but nobody had searched his subspaces pockets in detail and he had managed to pass them under the olfactive sensor of the Customs Officers.

They gave him a feeling of security. One chip installed in a special port in his forearm, suppressing or warding off some lines of codes, and he was free from ‘incidents’ for a whole decacycle. By precaution, he had even taken four boxes with him, holding a dozen chips each. For safety sake, he would regularly replace the chip inside his arm. One never knew, after all. Hopefully, it would be more than enough to last until they accomplished their mission. After all, how hard a Decepticon infiltrator could be hard to find in a small backwater village on a backwater planet? And even if it wasn’t sufficient… if really they had to stay longer, or if he really was forced to interface more with Bulkhead -- which he absolutely didn’t plan to once that fake Bonding was taken care of! -- well, his stock didn’t hold, an Intelligence agent was supposed to come as a visitor, so he could check on their progresses by himself.

No, there would be no sparklings. Not tonight, and not ever. However, he nodded politely with a slightly nervous smile; hopefully, it could pass down as the smile of a shy ‘Endura’. “That’s… very kind of you to say,” he said softly, trying to not sound unpleasant. “Thank…”

Bulkhead, for his part, just seemed flustered and started to smile goofily. “I sincerely hope we do, Father. I hope you’ll pray for us.” And he seemed so proud! Sentinel gave him a weird look; sometimes, it almost looked like Bulkhead was forgetting everything they were doing wasn’t for real, real. That, or he was a better actor than Sentinel had ever thought…

Behind the Father, Nightglow waved merrily at them. The mech was always here, it seemed, always smiling at them and listening in. He was the one who had introduced them, even if briefly, to most of the other villagers. Sentinel found it highly suspicious, but Bulkhead just shrugged the matter off, saying it was normal; as the first person they had officially met when they arrived a few cycles ago, Nightglow probably thought he had a responsibility toward them. “Just take all your time, dearests. We will take care of everything while you’re busy!”

“Uh, right,” Sentinel mumbled as Bulkhead just nodded and started to climb the stairs. One step, two, three, four,... Sentinel stopped counting them after that, his CPU coming blank and his frame starting to shake. All faces were turned toward them, becoming smaller as they moved higher on the stairs. Bulkhead looked down at him in wonder.

“You’re alright?” he whispered, shifting his grip on Sentinel as he reached the last step.

Sentinel shook his head to clear his CPU and groused. “‘course I am! Let’s get it over with as soon as possible, soldier,” he mumbled.

“... right away, Sir,” he said. He turned in the corridor, reaching the Master berthroom, which had been left wide open for their arrival. Bulkhead entered, still carrying him, and pushed the door with his foot to close it. It closed with a loud ‘bang’, informing everyone they were in and about to do… _it._

“Well, you can release me, now,” Sentinel said, shoulders tense as he tried to escape Bulkhead’s arms.

The large green mech nodded but continued to hold Sentinel until they reached the large berth Then, and only then, did he drop Sentinel, letting him fall on the foam mattress covered by a white linen. Sentinel, by reflex, shifted to move closer to the center, bringing his knees to his chest and putting his arms around them. The edge of the dress and the petticoats raised slightly as he did so, and Sentinel realized with a start that it allowed Bulkhead to get a glimpse of his panty-covered plating. He immediately shifted to hide it away. Sentinel glared at him.

Bulkhead just stood at the edge of the berth, seeming not to dare to move. Nervously, he passed one of his gigantic hand behind his helm. “So, uh… do we… do we begin?”

Sentinel’s shoulders tensed. He really wanted to say ‘no’, really wanted to not repeat what had happened in the Temple, but he had been drilled on the high points of the ceremony -- though nobody had told him about the panel removal, for sure! -- and he knew that they needed to exhibit a proof they had interfaced again. It bothered him much; why did they have to prove to those strangers they were a… a ‘couple’? And it wasn’t even the worse; they were also… also supposed to share Sparks. Something Sentinel had never done before, not even when he had been more, let say, adventurous about interfacing and what his body liked or disliked. Perhaps they could skip this part?

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, haven’t we?” he groused. Bulkhead nodded quietly and sat on the edge of the berth, rolling so he could lie down next to Sentinel. As he reached for him, the Prime swallowed and held a hand. “Say, that Spark thing… Are we really forced to?”

Bulkhead blinked. “Well, yes. It’s part of the ceremony. It needs to be done for...”

Sentinel made a sound of impatience. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, but they’re not going to come and check if we shared Sparks, do they?”

Bulkhead seemed to ponder about it for a moment. “Well,” he allowed, “Spark interfacing is something farmers hold as very private. You just don’t talk too much about it, and most farmers won’t bother asking you if you do it.” Sentinel felt his shoulders sag in relief. “However…” Bulkhead started again, and Sentinel tensed anew. “However, there are Priests who do checks if the second part of the Bonding ceremony has been done in the rules. I do remember, when I was a youngling… the Priest at my hometown always went to check on the couples when they hung the sheets outside. They always came back following him, and he looked pretty satisfied. There was only once where he came back alone, the sheets at the window were taken back and we had to wait longer before the feast,” he mused. “Everyone talked about it for decacycles. It’s just… not sharing Spark on Bonding day is just not done,” he explained lamely. “And… we did tell the Priest we were Spark virgins, so he will know for sure if we don’t…”

Oh, right. When they had first met Father Spica and talked about bonding, the question had caught them by surprise and they had sputtered a positive answer, with which the emerald green mech had seemed pleased enough.

Great. Just great. Had Sentinel been a lesser mech, he would have keened. He didn’t want his first time sharing Spark to be with a giant, clumsy mech!

Focus on the mission, he scolded himself. Just focus and forget about how unclean you’re going to feel. Spark sharing is just another way to interface, it has no special meaning. You’re going to be just fine. No need to panic; it can’t be any worse than the spiking, he rationalized, taking deep breaths through his vents.

Finally, he nodded sharply. “Well, since there’s nothing else to do…” he trailed off and grimaced.

Bulkhead was quiet for a few breems. He ended up coughing in embarrassment. “Hum, do you want help?” Sentinel looked at him questioningly. “To undress,” he explained. “You, uh… you need to at least have the top portion of the dress off so we can… you know.”

Sentinel nodded slowly. “R… Right,” he said, and turned to allow Bulkhead access to his back, where the clasps were located. With a surprising dexterity and carefulness for someone who was both so big and so clumsy -- though he had made progresses -- Bulkhead started to open them one by one, face close to Sentinel’s back. The blue mech shuddered as he felt hot air trail along his body. He almost jumped in surprise when hot lips were pressed against his neck. “What…?” he asked.

“Hush,” Bulkhead muttered. “Relax… just let me… work,” he said softly, soft, tender kisses starting to trail along Sentinel’s shoulders. All the while, Bulkhead was gently pushing the fabric away from said shoulders, helping Sentinel remove his arms and hands from the sleeves. The top of the dress easily sled down to pool around his waist with a soft ruffle. Bulkhead’s hands started to trail over Sentinel’s body, slowly caressing his chest right over his spark chamber. His spark was throbbing, in fear more than in desire, Sentinel was sure. He mewled a bit as Bulkhead stopped his kisses and moved away, but the mewl was replaced with a yelp as he was himself manhandled and moved to lie on his back, the other mech taking place between his legs and pushing away the skirt and petticoats.

“W… Wait!” Sentinel choked as strong, sturdy hands started to spread his thighs apart. Too fast! Far too fast! Bulkhead paused and tilted his head at him.

“I thought you said you wanted it over as fast as possible?”

Well, he did, but that didn’t meant he wanted to be ploughed into as if he was a Pleasurebot! As he started to mumble something, Bulkhead’s optics suddenly lighted. “Oh! Sorry; I should have known you’d like something more.”

Sentinel frowned, puzzled, until Bulkhead shifted and, like he did at the Temple, pushed his head between his open thighs. He almost sighed, both in relief and in irritation. Relief because he wasn’t getting spiked just yet. Irritation because he didn’t think getting his valve orally pleasured would help him relax. So when, instead of focusing on his valve, Bulkhead just moved the crotchless panties a bit down with his dentas and started to kiss his spike housing, it was very understandable that Sentinel yelped.

“Bulkhead! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Pleasuring you,” the green mech said back before continuing his kisses and licks on the spike cover. It was heating up under his touch. It felt really nice… and he rather liked the other mech focusing on that rather than on ravishing him. His cover slide open in a matter of kliks and Sentinel let his spike extend. Bulkhead hummed.

“Good… very good,” he said before starting to take the erected rod in his mouth. Sentinel groaned as he did so. It felt good, to have his spike pleasured like that, in a large mouth where it could slide easily down the bot intakes. His hands became fists which clenched on the linen underneath him as he panted. Bulkhead kept humming as he worked over his spike, sending vibrations along the length, and it felt wonderful.

He didn't know how long it lasted. Only that after a pleasurable while, he shouted as his charge reached its peak and he overloaded, transfluid shouting out of his spike and in Bulkhead’s mouth. Readily, the Space Bridge technician swallowed the fluid as it came, not letting a drop escape him. Only then did he let go of the now limp spike, licking his lips to gather the last drops of fluids. Smiling to himself, he tucked Sentinel’s limp spike back into the crotchless panties, were they made a slight bulge in the red, lacy fabric.

As he shifted, Sentinel just laid on the berth, panting. He didn’t protest this time when Bulkhead parted his thighs and made him slide down toward him until his valve was once again lined with his large, generous spike that he had already let out.

“Ready?” he asked, and Sentinel only groaned trying to shift. Taking it as a positive answer, he started to drive his spike in the Prime’s tight port.

Sentinel’s fists clenched even stronger and he let out a cry as he was once again slowly impaled on his fellow Autobot’s huge length. It didn’t hurt like the first time. His port was still pleasantly stretched and wet with lubricant and some of Bulkhead’s previous release, and the spike slide into him more easily than earlier. Still, having this spike back in him was making him feel weird. Pit, it almost seemed bigger to him now than it had been the first time, not even a megacycle ago! His body was shaking as more and more of the length was pushed into him, and he panted and moaned and whimpered endlessly. He had tried to grit his teeth to stop himself from making so much noise, but the pleasured and pained sounds escaped him nonetheless. He almost thought he was going to rip the sheet apart, the way he was twisting it with his fists.

At long last, Bulkhead stopped thrusting. Sentinel barely had time to feel relief, because right as he realized that, Optimus’ subordinate was pulling back, making him moan anew. He pulled his spike almost completely out before he pushed back him, faster than the first time. And he did so again. And again. And again. If the first time, on the Altar, had been slow and gentle, this time, Bulkhead was thrusting in earnest. Not at a very fast pace, but definitely faster than the previous time, and Sentinel just kept on shouting as his valve was stuffed full.

“Open your Spark Chamber,” he heard the green mech say, and in a daze, trying to focus on the pounding in his valve, Sentinel obeyed. His chestplates parted slowly, letting his spark appears to his lover’s optics. The spark, like the ones of all mechs and femmes who had never tried sparksex before, was still protected by a double layer of polymer. The first layer, thin and fragile, would dissolve when they would join spark, while the second, more sturdy and self regenerant, would reform over time to protect the Spark until another merge. It emitted a soft blue light that kept fluttering with each thrust he received.

“Beautiful,” Bulkhead said softly in a murmur. “You’re most beautiful, Sentinel.”

Any other time, coming from someone else, it could have made Sentinel swell with pride. As it was, right now, while being pounded into, it made him blush and feel pretty embarrassed and nervous.

“Humm… oh… ‘m not...aaaah,” he moaned.

“Yes you are,” Bulkhead insisted. “And I’m very proud to be your first,” he added as he parted his own chestplates. The noise and the light made Sentinel breaks through some of the haze he was in -- and was it really normal to lose control like that each time Bulkhead fragged him? The Space Bridge technician’s spark was larger, of course, and of a deeper blue color. It shone steadily, behind his own two layers of polymer.

Sentinel swallowed as Bulkhead started to lean toward him, intent on joining their chest for a meld. He would have wanted to say no, to thrash and get away, but… what would be the point? From Bulkhead’s account, if someone checked on them and discovered they hadn’t shared their Sparks, then they would have to do everything again, and Sentinel didn’t intend on getting fragged again. He tried to reassure himself, knowing it always took more than one tentative to create a real bond, but it barely took away the edge of his nervosity.

There must have been something in his optics, for Bulkhead paused in his descend on him, and gently patted his shoulder.

“It’s going to be perfectly alright,” he said quietly. Then, suddenly, he surged forward and stuck his chest against Sentinel’s own.

They both screamed. Surprise, pain, pleasure, love, hate, trust, distrust, cheerfulness, grumpiness, Sentinel felt all of it at once, his own and not his own. There was something foreign inside his Spark and processor -- not to mention his valve, in which the pounding had abated a bit -- but for the love of him, he wouldn’t have been able to determinate what was his own feelings and emotions and what were those of the intruder. He could only keen as he felt rush of emotions and burst of energy going through him. His legs secured themselves nicely around the mech who was topping him’s waist, while his arms moved to tie themselves around the neck of his lover/ravager/intruder/bonded.

Electricity crackled over both their frames, charges quickly building, and with twin shouts, they overloaded together, from Sparks and bodies at the same time. Sentinel was only distantly aware of the sudden rush of liquid heat suddenly filling him, drops already dripping out of his port all around his lover’s spike. He was barely more aware of the weight pinning him down to the berth, Bulkhead having fallen on top of him as he overloaded too. Optics shuttered, he could only lay panting, vents overworking to cool down his heated frame.

Several moments passed in silence, only troubled by the sounds of their respective vents. Finally, after a small eternity, Sentinel felt Bulkhead move, his spike sliding out of his valve as he rolled to the side, freeing Sentinel. The Prime lighted his optics and stared at the ceiling, processor blank. He could hear voices outside, in the house and on the lawn, a joyful buzz he almost frowned at without knowing why.

“That was… pretty intense,” Bulkhead finally said, breaking the quietness.

“Yeah… Yes, it was,” Sentinel answered after a breem or two, finding his voice back. Sparksex was everything he had heard of and even more, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. It seemed far too intimate, left someone far too vulnerable. And Sentinel didn’t like to be vulnerable; he liked to be in control, of his body as well as of his mind. Sparksex took all away… then again, so did normal interfacing, it seemed. Had it really be like that when he first tried? He couldn’t remember…

“So… ready to go down and join the party?” Bulkhead asked after more silence.

Ah, yes, the wedding feast. The reason there was so many muffled noises. People were expecting them to come down soon. Honestly, the Prime wasn’t in a hurry to join them, but a feast meant energon, and after the two overloads he had gone through in a megacycle, he needed to refuel, and badly so.

Sentinel rolled on his side and looked at him. “Give me a few more moments to gather myself, and then we’ll do it.”

**************************

“The Pit is that?” Sentinel asked, optics wide as he took sight of the long tables installed in front of the house.

When he had been told there would be a feast, he had imagined something like the different blends of energon one could find at Maccadam’s Old Oil House, one of the most famous micro-refinery on Cybertron. Perhaps a few oil snack as well, since it was common knowledge that Agricultural planets had oil in abondance.

However, if Sentinel could make out a few cubes of pink high grade and some oil barrels in the display, the rest of the… food was largely unknown to him.

There were plates charged with all kind of crystals, long, small, big ones, blue, pink, purple, green, yellow, orange,... About every shade of color. And there were things that looked like giant versions of some of the snacks offered in the Cybertron’s high class establishments Council Members and Officers of the Elite Guard frequented.

What in the Pit was all this?!

Besides him, Bulkhead blinked. “Well, it’s our meal.” He started to smile as he saw some of the dishes. “Hey, is that an Aurum-apple pie? And a Photon-potatoes stew? And that…? Fresh Cryo-carrots with mercury vinaigrette! Oh, a Argon-pears compote! I hadn’t had that since I left Moonbase II!” he said goofily.

Sentinel blinked. None of those names were familiar to him. Sure, he knew that energon farms grew energon crystals, which were obviously what was on the tables, but he had never known there were different types of them, and that people bothered giving a name to each kind. Why would they, after all? Most of the Commonwealth consummated fuel in liquid form. Each of those energon crystal was just melted and mixed and blended together to make standard cubes of fuel. It made no sense to differentiate them.

Except for these farmers, he supposed. If they looked kindly at Bulkhead’s excitation, Sentinel’s outburst had had them looking at him strangely.

“Have you never seen mechanicrops before, Sentinel?” asked an unfamiliar mech, an Endura judging by the dress. He seemed very put off by the mere idea. People were murmuring and frowning.

The Prime shuffled. Bulkhead spoke before Sentinel had a chance. “He would not, sadly,” the green mech said with a very deep sigh, gathering the attention of everyone. “On Cybertron, they exclusively consume liquid fuel. Why, it’s almost impossible to come across a single energon crystal in its natural form!” he said, making big gesture and looking forlorn. People around them gasped; some of them even put their hands to their mouths to muffled their own horror-filled cries. Sentinel thought they were being far too melodramatic.

Little exclamation and comments fused. “How awful!”, “No energon crystals!”, “How can bots only live on drinks!”

Bulkhead put an arm around his shoulders and brought them closer to him, gently kissing him on his forehead through the veil. Sentinel tried very hard not to fidget; the kiss was unwelcome, but Bulkhead was playing a role, and he squeezed Sentinel’s hand into one of his own as warning as he continued to speak. “As sad as it is, it is unfortunately true, my fellow Goodmechs and Goodwives. No mechanicrops grow on Cybertron. To have them in their natural forms, one has to import them directly for his or her use, and it sadly out of question for those living on a small salary. Me being away to make repairs so often on various infrastructure among the Commonwealth left me with no possibility to order some and them prepare my Intended a proper meal. As such, I could never treat my beloved Sentinel with any of our delicacies, nor was I able to show him how wonderful an energon crystal tastes.”

Ok, Bulkhead was pushing too much, Sentinel thought. But his words seemed to strike something deep into the townfolks’ spark, for their now looked at Sentinel not with frown, but with disturbing compassion. It made him bristle. So he hadn’t ever tasted their weird fuel, and then what? It wasn’t a crime, was it?

Bulkhead wasn’t finished speaking. “Thankfully, now that we are here, on this fine planet and even finer village, I’ll be able to correct this grave injustice and treat my beloved Endura with all the fresh mechnicrops I’ll grow on our farm.” Several people nodded eagerly, and some smiled grimly. A little group of mechs, however, continued to frown, seemingly bothered by something. It made Sentinel nervous.

One of them, a cyan and white mech wearing a light brown dress with a green apron, came forward, looking concerned. Rennet, he thought his name was. “But then, Sentinel… does that mean you don’t know how to cook?”

Sentinel blinked. Cook? “Uh, no,” he said, feeling silly. He winced as people started to gasp again. Some of them gave him concerned glances, and he even caught some of the Conjunx giving Bulkhead pitying looks. “It’s… it’s no big deal,” he tried to say. He wanted to add that he’d buy some normal fuel to consume for him and Bulkhead, but realized almost immediately it would be a pretty stupid thing to say. If people here used so many… mechanicrops to fuel, then it must mean there was nothing else available. Which was a big, big problem. “I… I can learn,” he said with a shaky smile. Surely he could. It couldn’t be that hard, after all. Could it?

Nightglow, who had come closer, smiled and nodded at him vigorously. “Of course! Cooking mechanicrops is fairly easy! We’re all going to help you!” Sentinel twitched a bit. Not noticing, Nightglow turned to Bulkhead. “With your permission, Goodmech Bulkhead, we,” he said, gesturing to several Enduras, “would like to invite Sentinel to come and join us tomorrow for the afternoon cycle at Happy Vale, my house. We had planned for a needlework reunion, but given the circumstances, we’d be delighted to change our plans as to help your lovely Endura learn some new skills.”

Why were they asking Bulkhead’s permission?! Sentinel was big enough to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ by himself, thank you very much. And he wouldn’t have said ‘no’ -- even if he was very tempted indeed -- for he had no desire to starve!

Sentinel glared and opened his mouth, but Bulkhead cut him out immediately. “I see no problem to that, Goodwife Nightglow. After all, until I manage to get the farm really started, Sentinel will have a lot of free time on his servos.” Oh. Of course; they were concerned Bulkhead would say no because he might have needed Sentinel to do… whatever work Bulkhead intended to do with the fields. Hmph. Sentinel still wasn’t happy, but he was less annoyed. Just a bit.

He felt, however, very enraged when Bulkhead added something more. “Uh, perhaps… while you teach him how to cook, perhaps you can help him learn needlework too? He doesn’t know any either,” Bulkhead said, looking a bit embarrassed. Nightglow and a handful of people’s mouths dropped open. “Cybertronians don’t use fabric,” he added quickly, “only some mesh. Lucky ones import cushions and pillows from the nearby planets of the Commonwealth, but I never saw anyone over there who knew how to use a needle aside of medical purposes. And those are different ones, as you know.”

Frag, why did Bulkhead had to publicly embarrass him?! Silently fuming, he activated his comm. system. For the duration of the mission, it had been decided to reduce the use of it, as to better integrate themselves in the community -- farmers seldomly used them -- but right now, Sentinel considered it an urgence. Especially if Bulkhead didn’t want him to make a scene before everyone.

_::What the Pit do you think you’re doing?!::_ he shrieked on an encrypted channel.

To his credit, Bulkhead barely flinched. _::Making sure you’re able to play your role. You really know nothing of cooking and needlework, Sentinel, and those are two of the main tasks you’ll be asked to do here. If you allow the other Enduras to teach you, then you’ll be able to meet with them more frequently and gather intel. If you get to know them, you’ll find out quickly which ones might be acting suspiciously.::_

Well, it did sound logical… annoying, but logical. Sentinel grunted over the channel. ::... fine. But don’t dare take decisions behind my back!::

As they chatted, mechs had managed to gather their wits. Nightglow was nodding slowly. “I see no problem in that, Bulkhead. In fact, we’ll be happy to help poor Sentinel learn all he needs to know.” ‘Poor’ Sentinel? Why should he be considered ‘poor’? So he didn’t know how to use a needle, big deal! he was a soldier, he didn’t need to know such things! … Of course, he couldn’t tell them that, so he just nodded stiffly with a smile he hoped was encouraging and happy. Nightglow hadn’t finished speaking. “We’ll make sure to give your beloved lessons in spinning, sewing and knitting. We’ll also teach him embroidery and crochet, quilting and passementerie and patchwork and how to make lace.”

Sentinel twitched. When they had said they would teach him needlework, he had thought they meant a single thing. Instead, it sounded like an impossible list. Was it really necessary for him to learn all of that? Sure, they could stay for a while, but certainly, if he picked one kind of needlework alone, it would be enough. Right?

“Not weaving?” Bulkhead asked curiously. “I remember, as a tyke, that it was among the things my Carrier’s fellow Enduras did.”

“Well,” a large yellow and red mech said as he came closer -- Mayor Levitacus, Sentinel recognized him right away; the main authority in town, so of course he remembered him, even if he had only seen him once. “We still do some weaving ourselves, but we were lucky enough to manage and contract an arrangement with the Weavers Guild in Riverbend.” His chest puffed. “I was able to get most of our production of Helio-Cotton and CaesiumSilk sent to Riverbend and returned to us as bolts of fabric our lovely Enduras just have to work with. It does allow them more time to devote themselves to their families and other duties.” Several couples smiled at each others fondly while the Mayor spoke. Sentinel felt a shudder for some reason. “That said, our Enduras still do some, though they mostly work with Electrosheeps’ yarn. And they do good work,” he added.

“That’s true,” one white and grey mech claimed. “My lovely Pollen,” he said, passing his arms about a smaller yellow and cream colored mech, whose body seemed to bulge under his dress, “is certainly the best embroiderer in town, and I think everybody will agree.” The mech in question, Pollen, flustered, obviously embarrassed by the sudden attention. There were a couple of nods around, and a few laughs and snorts, but nobody outrightly contested the statement. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to teach your Endura, Bulkhead,” he said to the huge green mech.

“And my Mistcover will be happy to help him learn to cook; he’s the best in town,” another mech claimed proudly. His Endura, Mistcover, swatted him laughingly and gave Sentinel a huge smile.

Bulkhead nodded gravely. “I can’t thank enough for all the help you’re offering. And I’m sure Sentinel shares my feelings,” he said, glancing down at the Prime, who smiled thinly and gave a nod.

“Yes, yes, of course. I don’t know how to thank all of you for your… generous offers.”

“Think nothing of it, dearest,” Nightglow said, giving Sentinel a quick hug. “We’ll do everything we can to help you settle in. That said,” he added with a mischievous smile, “let’s eat!”

People cheered and started to sit around the tables. Bulkhead took Sentinel’s hand and guided him to two chairs which seemed to have been prepared specially for them. Carefully, Bulkhead helped the Prime sit down, and though he didn’t said it, Sentinel was actually relieved. His valve was still aching and he tried to move the less possible ever since they had come down to join the marriage guests. As his… Conjunx settle down in the chair next to him, Sentinel arranged his dress so it fell straight and pushed his veil away from his face. The thing was starting to really annoy him, and the bows securing it to his helmstacks made him feel silly. He distractedly touched one, wondering if he shouldn’t just take it off.

“You look cute with that.”

Sentinel startled and looked at Bulkhead with a frown. The mech rubbed his servo behind his head, embarrassed. “Well, they’re really cute accessories on you… kinda,” he corrected quickly as Sentinel glared at him with all his might. “Uh, how about we select something to eat? Any idea what you would like to try first?” he asked quickly.

Sentinel’s frown turned to the various dishes. He had absolutely no idea of what to select, nor did he know how to use the tools on the table next to his plate. He knew of cutlery, of course; although he had never used it himself, he had once gone, as a Minor, to a Senator’s home to deliver a personal message. The mech had been about to refuel, and he had had a solid snack on a table with cutlery next to it.

He scanned the table quickly. Honestly, there was nothing which tempted him. “I’ve no idea,” he finally confessed.

“If I may?” the mech sitting on Sentinel other side said. It was the famous Mistcover, a lithe mech of light purple and dark grey color, wearing a yellow dress. He smiled kindly at Sentinel and Bulkhead, and for some reason, it grit on Sentinel’s CPU. Why did everyone had to seem and sound so nice about everything? “If you’re not used to more solid fuel, the best would be to began with a purée or mashed mechanicrops.”

Mashed? Sentinel had no idea what that meant, but Bulkhead nodded readily. “Of course! It would be for the better, you’re right. I suppose there is some around?”

Mistcover nodded. “Of course. We always plan some for the sparklings, and there’s a good selection available.”

“It’s sparkling fuel?” Sentinel asked with an edge of discontentment in the voice. He was no sparkling!

The other mech laughed merrily. “Oh no, no! It’s a dish anyone can eat! But sparklings who start on solid fuel can ingest it more easily,” he explained as he made a gesture to show, at the end of the table, a pair of younglings Sentinel didn’t know. They were gently feeding spoons of an orange goo -- or at least, it looked like goo to him -- to two sparklings who probably weren’t older than ten vorns old. “We have several sorts, so just tell me what you’d like: Photon-Potatoes, Cryo-Carrots, Tungsten-Turnips,...”

Bulkhead raised a hand. “A spoonful of everything, please, so that Sentinel may try them all, please,” he said imperiously.

Sentinel frowned. He didn’t like being told what to ingest. “Oh, but I would be fine with just… Cryo-Carrots, that what you called it? And I’d like to try some of this,” he said, pointing at a dish with several sliced and diced multicolor crystals. In truth, it didn’t tempt him anymore than the ‘mashed Cryo-Carrots’, but the Pit if he was going to be ordered around by the big oaf… even if he seemed to know what he was doing and talking about.

“The stir-fried Carbon-Cabbage with Alloy-Onions? Good choice,” Mistcover nodded eagerly. “Here, give me your plate, I’ll serve you.”

“Make sure to also add some side seasoning,” Bulkhead added as he took his own plate and started to fill it with a yellow stuff. “I’d like to show them to Sentinel.” He also added a few more things to his plate.

“What’s that?” the Prime asked curiously and a bit reluctantly as he watched Bulkhead almost salivate.

“Photon-Potatoes stew,” he said pointing to the yellow stuff he had put first. Next, he showed a couple of orange crystalline orange sticks. “Julienne of Cryo-Carrots.” Brown, glittering crystals were next. “Stir-fried Magna-Mushroom, it’s delicious with some Carbon-Garllic. There, try some,” he said as he plunged his spoon in the gooey yellow stew and immediately shoved it in Sentinel’s mouth.

The Prime almost choked. Frag, what did Bulkhead do that?! He wanted to scream and rant at him, but first he had to shallow the strange fuel. Curiously, it didn’t taste half as bad as he had expected. The flavor was peculiar -- rich in mineral components that Sentinel didn’t quite identify on the spot -- but not bad. And if the texture was a bit weird, it let itself be consumed. He swallowed and let Bulkhead retract the spoon.

“So? How was it?” he asked eagerly.

“... Acceptable,” Sentinel almost grumbled. Bulkhead smiled.

“I knew you’d like it! Here, take another spoon,” he said as he presented another full spoon to the Prime.

Sentinel huffed. “I can refuel alone… dearest,” he said, adding the term of endearment as an afterthought, because it might be expected. “Using a spoon isn’t so hard.” He was a bit more worried about the fork, but the spoon was alright.

Still, Bulkhead pouted. “But I wanted to feed you myself.”

It made several people chuckled. “How cute,” Mistcover commented with a soft laugh as he deposited Sentinel’s now full plate before him. Gooey yellow, orange and whitish stuff which were probably the mashed Photon-Potatoes and purées he had been told about, some of the famous stir-fried Carbon-Cabbage, and a darker substance in corner of the plate.

“What it is?” he asked Mistcover. He didn’t remember having asked for it.

“Gravy, to go with the Photon-Potatoes; it’ll be more tasty,” the light purple mech explained. Sentinel nodded, as if it made sense. In trust, it didn’t for him, but well, who was he to comment?

Carefully, he took his own spoon and dug into the mash. His hold was a bit awkward, he knew it immediately, and though his hand shook, he did manage to bring the fuel to his mouth and push it in. His first thought was that it wasn’t unpleasant. Different, true, but not unpleasant. In a way, he thought it tasted better than the stew, but that was just him. He swallowed carefully, and as the mouthful dropped in his fuel tank and broke into particles, he felt a slight burst of energy go through him. It almost made him drop the spoon in shock. Did all mechanicrops do that?

His reaction didn’t go unnoticed by the persons around him. Sitting across the table directly in front of him, Nightglow smiled kindly. “Did you like it, Sentinel?”

“I… think I do,” the blue mech answered carefully as he took another spoonful. He swallowed it as carefully as the first, the taste settling in a bit more. Yes, definitely not unpleasant.

Next to him, Bulkhead’s chest puffed. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Anyway, I think you need to try a bit of everything today, so you know for sure what you’d like better,” he said as he shoved his own spoon in Sentinel’s mouth again. The Prime sputtered and tried to shake his head free, but he swallowed anyway. Here, the taste was sweeter, and it definitely had a more solid consistency.

“What was that?” he choked out as Bulkhead removed his spoon.

“Argon-pears compote,” the green mech answered. “I’m really fond of it. What do you think of it?” he asked worriedly.

“... It’s alright,” Sentinel allowed.

And the scene kept reproducing for almost a megacycle. Sentinel just tried to refuel and get used to the texture of solid things and to the individual taste of mechanicrops -- which, apparently, also varied in energy and minerals and metals, so one had to eat several kinds a cycle to refuel on normal level. Really, how unpractical; a good cube of energon was simpler to take -- but he couldn’t do it as he pleased. For each dish he tried himself, Bulkhead forced him to taste another just after. The Prime didn’t even manage to keep the names straight; he only knew that at some point, he had tried Aurum-Apples and Plumbum-kin pies, Cobalt-Cherries cake, Electro-matoes salad and Plasma-Peas soup -- and it had been a great relief for him to discover the soups; while they were not quite as filling as a standard energon cube, they at least didn’t feel as weird as, say, the roasted Ion-Yams.

All the while, people talked around them, and several mechs tried to engage the conversation with him or with Bulkhead. Nightglow, Mistcover and another Endura, Yoke (the Mayor’s first Endura, he had been told, since the mech had had the permission to take a second Bonded) all tried to make him talk about himself, about what he liked, how he was settling him, if the food was pleasing him,... Sentinel kept his answers to a bare minimum and kept on refueling. It gave him an excuse to stay mostly silent. It didn’t seem to bother anyone, though; no smile went strained at his lack of proper conversation, and everyone kept looking at him with those fragging kind optics.

Nobot was so nice naturally, he decided. All these mechs were highly suspicious and he reminded himself that at least one or more were (probably) working for the Decepticons. Eck, given how naive some seemed to be, they might not even realize they worked for the enemy!

Well, Sentinel was here now, and he would make sure to thoroughly investigate everyone and everything. He was on a job, and he always fulfilled it well… the incident with Lockdown didn’t count. Neither did the backlash of his short tenure as Magnus; he felt he had taken the correct decisions, it wasn’t his fault nobody important was willing to support him.

Speaking of his short tenure as Magnus, he had been thought it would disqualify him from taking part in an undercover mission. Strangely, however, nobody here seemed to recognize him. Then again, Bulkhead had pointed out at some point that farmers didn’t use much their comm. links unless they really needed it to contact help or coordinate a work in different part of their farms, and that most of them didn’t own a proper radio, to say nothing of a screen. Agri III was almost a technological desert.

Eventually, everyone stopped refueling. Leftovers were transported inside to be stocked (“You’ll have something to eat for tomorrow mid-day refueling, dear.”), most of the younglings went out to play in the fields, and a couple of sparklings yawned and were taken aside for a nap. Rennet, one of the Endura, kept a very small one who looked a lot like him in his arms as they started to remove the tables and the chairs.

They only kept two tables they pushed together and the two chairs where Sentinel and Bulkhead sat. Everyone stood in front of them, like if they expected something. It made Sentinel nervous for some reasons.

“Uh, Bulkhead, what’s going on?” he asked discretely as small groups went to a handful of Zap-horses carts.

Bulkhead blinked then smiled down at him. “Oh, it’s time for gifts giving.”

“Gifts…?” Sentinel trailed off. “What, you mean they’re going to give us stuff?”

“Well, of course. It’s our Bonding day, so everyone wish to help us start our union on the right pedes by giving us things that will be useful for our future life,” he explained calmly. “Did you not heard about that? In debriefing, I mean?” he whispered so lowly that Sentinel had an hard time hearing the words.

“...No. They insisted on… other things.” Like the fact a Bonding ceremony for the Church of Primus involved fragging right away, and twice at that.

“Oh. Well, now you know. So be nice and thank everyone for the gifts they’re going to make, ok?”

Sentinel nodded stiffly. Of course he would! Who did Bulkhead think he was? He wasn’t an uncultured, rude barbarian! Besides, it was always nice to receive gifts… even if they came from a couple of mechs with what he feared was a few wires crossed on a backwater planet of the Autobot Commonwealth.

Mechs after mechs deposited colorful metal boxes on the large table before them, wrapped in ribbons. They formed piles, and Sentinel felt some contentment as he watched them. It was probably the better part of the day so far. “Go ahead, Sentinel,” Bulkhead encouraged him. “Open them.”

The Prime happily did so. Sadly, he soon became nervous, disillusioned and shocked as the content varied and became more and more unexpected.

First, he found dishwares, as well as what seemed to be cooking utensils: pots, pans, a kettle, canning jars, ladles, cauldron, flatiron, skillet... Bulkhead whispered their names to his audio receptor as he discovered them and put them aside. Useful, given the circumstances, he supposed. There was also a silverware set, shining nicely. A gift from the Mayor, if one had to judge by his satisfied side when Sentinel made a couple of ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ to indicate it was a good gift. Needles and yarn and threads came next along with three bolts of fabric, and a datapad which contained schematics -- patterns for dresses, Bulkhead told him as he frowned --, skeins of electrosheep wool, some sheets of various colors for their berth, and curtains and aprons and gigantic overalls Bulkhead nodded approvingly at. A cover made of multicolored and different fabric came next -- patchwork cover, Bulkhead said. It would also be used for the berth.

Next came tools. Sentinel didn’t recognized most of them, though Bulkhead seemed very happy to see them. “Rakes! Shovels! Spades! Oh, is that a string trimmer? Oh, the nice hoe! And a digging fork! I hadn’t seen one as nice since the one my Carrier used to chase away a couple of younglings who had snuck in her orchard to steal her Aurum-Apples!” It made a couple of people laugh.

Other stuffs followed: large wheelbarrows and bins, a wagon -- everything in kit to put up by themselves -- scythes and sickles, sprinklers and watering cans… Sentinel felt pretty lost.

Then came the seeds. Bulkhead positively gushed as Sentinel uncovered several bags of small crystal seeds, talking excitedly about their variety and how long he had wanted to try and cultivate this or that, and a couple of Conjunx nodded at that. Hmph. Nothing very interesting.

The prayers book and the Evangile of Primus, given by the priest, was not a real surprise. There were a couple of datapads on agricultural topics Bulkhead looked very interested at, and Sentinel shoved them aside with the rest to reach for other packages. Next thing he came across was a nicely decorated folding screen, painted in soft pink and purple hues, showing stylized pictures of various mechanicrops Sentinel didn’t know.

Bulkhead nodded at it with a serious face, and Sentinel frowned, wondering why. What use this thing was, exactly? It certainly had a purpose, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand what.

That’s when he started to get nervous.

The cooking utensils and the plates and cutlery, he understood and accepted them readily. Since they were stuck on solid energon diet, they would need it. The stuffs related to needlework and linens for the house, sure, why not? If it was traditional for a Endura to use these things, he’d take them. Seeds and tools were a given, if they lived on a farm. And the religious stuff just showed they were in a rather religious setting. The folding screen was pushing at his comprehension, but it seemed pretty inoffensive.

The dresses Sentinel uncovered in another box, however, set him slightly more on edge. There was no real reason to, really, but… it just enforced the fact he was going to have to wear dresses until their mission was over, since he had to settle in with the villagers and their strange customs. So the seven or eight dresses in shades of yellow, red and blue -- and a white one with a bonnet -- covered in printed patterns and furnished with petticoats made him feel weird. The various aprons which came with them didn’t help; most were in what Bulkhead called ‘pinafore style’, white and going with everything, but to Sentinel, they seemed better suited for femmes, not mechs.

The crotchless panties made him open wide optics. Next to him, he felt rather than saw Bulkhead’s cheek flush with heat, and they didn’t dare look at each others. There was at least a dozen of different pairs to wear, and Sentinel made a mental note to throw them away as soon as he could. Once he got his panel back, he wouldn’t wear any of these things again -- and he’d need to ask the priest to give him back his valve cover as soon as possible. He understood today wasn’t the day, but he would ask the next day-cycle for sure.

More dresses were uncovered in the next package, but these ones were strange. Whereas the previous ones were tight around the waist, this ones weren’t. They seemed to form a band around the chest, and the fabric just flew down without marking the body. Come to think of it, there were a mech and a femme in the crowd who wore dresses like that -- Apis and Pollen. And they both seemed to bulge…

It connected rather suddenly in his CPU as he caught sight of Rennet with the very small sparking he was busy rocking in his arms. Pollen and Apis were Carrying. Those were dresses for sparked bots. He almost dropped the one he was holding right away, but Bulkhead caught his hands in his owns and held them steady.

“How beautiful they are, aren’t they, my love?” he said loudly, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh… Oh, yes. Very… very pretty. I’m sure they’ll fit me well…” he said, trying to look at anything but the people observing them, cheeks red in humiliation and shame. And people kept giving them knowing and loving smiles. Guh! Were they expecting him to get sparked so soon? Well, sorry for them, but Sentinel had no intention to be!

Hands shaking a bit, he opened the next package, and this time actually choked as he discovered what was inside.

He had found the panties unpleasant and kinky. But that… that was worse! Bulkhead leaned over his shoulder and carefully took the box. He took out… a plug. A fragging plug! A sex toy! And there wasn’t only one, he discovered quickly. The next two boxes he opened also held some. In all, seven of those damn things were aligned on the table by Bulkhead. They were all of different models, some very short but large, without any decorations, and other longer and sturdy looking, their flanges decorated. The fanciest-looking one had a flange shaped like a flower in bloom and the plug itself was engraved with little leaves. Sentinel wasn’t shaking, which was lucky, but he was gripping his chair tightly.

“That’s… a welcome gift,” Bulkhead said, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you for your kindness.” Kindness? Kindness! Sentinel looked at Bulkhead as if he was crazy.

_::I’ll explain later,::_ the hulking mech quickly send over their comm. link.

_::No, you do it now!::_ Sentinel sent back, trying to calm himself.

_::... Plugs are to help bots get sparked by, uh,... you know… keep the transfluid inside,::_ he said very quickly as he thanked the crowd once again.

… No, Sentinel wasn’t going to comment on the absurdity of it all. He shuddered as he looked once more at the various plugs. Brr. What were they going to tell him next? That is was an obligation to wear one each time Bulkhead finished to frag him? Not that he would again, but they didn’t need to know that.

He opened the next package cautiously, fearing another… kinky surprise. What he found was both kinder and worse in some ways. Arm shaking, he raised a mech shaped rag doll, with cute little doorwings and buttons for the optics. After that, he saw a stuffed cybercat, a ball, two stuffed cyberdogs, another doll -- which kinda looked like Councilmember Botanica -- four or five tops, a hoop, a jump rope, yet another couple of stuffed mechanimals -- Glitchmice and Petrorabbits and Turbo-Bears --, plasticine,...

Were they obsessed with sparklings or what?! Nobody on Cybertron would have offered sparkling toys to a newly Bonded couple! Making one took time, energy and money, so most couple waited hundreds and hundreds of vorns before they even thought about one!

The worse part, even? Bulkhead was looking at the toys with a very goofy expression, probably already imagining bitlets running around. Sentinel coughed sharply, and the big bot had the good sense of looking abashed. He even seemed downcast. Well, good; they weren’t really a couple, they were bots on a mission! They weren’t here to have sparklings! If Bulkhead wanted some, then he would have to get himself a real bonded!

As Sentinel pushed aside a last sparkling toy, he felt relief. Over, finally.

Bulkhead rose from his chair and invited Sentinel to do the same, and they both stood before the crowd, who was watching them expectantly.

“Goodmechs, Goodwives, my lovely Endura and myself would like to thank you for all those marvellous gifts you have bestowed upon us. They’ll form the first step that will lead us in a long, peaceful and productive life that I hope will be full of happiness, love and sparklings…”

::The Pit are you saying?!::

::It’s traditional! Keep quiet!:: Bulkhead snapped back.

“... with everything you have given us, we stand now as a couple, a Conjunx and a Endura ready to embrace life to its fullness and embrace what she will give us in return. We thank you for your kindness, your thoughtfulness. We thank you for the time and effort you put into those gifts, for the time you put in coming here today to celebrate our union before Primus and mechkind. We thank you for being, despite not knowing us so well yet, such wonderful friends, and I hope we’ll be able to repay your kindness in the future. Goodmechs, Goodwives, we thank you.”

And he bowed again, and Sentinel, at a tug he gave him, bowed with him. Gently, Bulkhead made him turn toward him, pushed the veil away once more and kissed Sentinel on the lips, in a chaste but very visible way. The crowd started to clap and applause, and soon sparklings and younglings alike started to threw crystal and metalloflowers petals at them, laughing and running around, as cried of ‘long live the newly Bonded’ and ‘all our wishes’ fused.

Knowing the ceremony and the day-cycle was coming to a hand, Sentinel let his shoulders sag a bit in relief.

Really, what wasn’t he ready to do for his job…

Just as he thought he was about to see people leave and finally get some peace and rest -- he was so going to go lie down and recharge and try to forget about the dull ache between his thighs -- a couple of mechs came forward. Now, Sentinel didn’t recognize them; he didn’t think he had met them already, though Bulkhead greeted them warmly.

“Rookwall, Lifespring. What can we do for you?” he enquired politely.

The pair smiled at each other then at them. “Would you mind coming to the barn and the henhouse with us, dears? There’s something we must show you,” the smaller of the pair, the pink dress-clad Endura said.

“It’s Lifespring’s idea, you see,” the bigger mech -- who was apparently Rookwall -- said. “We talked a bit, and we realized that… well, that you were going to be busy and probably scrambling for lots of things,” he continued, seemingly embarrassed. “So, we thought it would be best for you if we gave you…” he smiled and squeezed his Endura’s hand.

Bulkhead’s optics lightened, and he sputtered as they started to walk together toward the two buildings. “Oh, you didn’t…? But that’s too much, far too much! We can’t honestly accept…!”

Lifespring raised a hand and tutted. “Now, now, dear, don’t act silly! It isn’t too much, and it’s a perfectly normal and acceptable Bonding gift; Why, you’ll never know when you need one! And metaleggs are indispensable to a good diet, Counterstep will tell you.”

Sentinel felt lost. What were they talking about? What was so interesting about the barn or the henhouse, anyway? Honestly, he didn’t even understand what the henhouse’s purpose was. The barn, he understood it was a house for the Zap-Horses. He had visited it briefly, and sure enough, the two noisy mechanimal were there, Bulkhead giving them fuel regularly and brushing them. But the barn was really big for only two animals. Had Lifespring and Rookwall decided to offer them yet another Zap-Horse? Sentinel made a face; he really disliked those animals. He could live with them, since he had little choice if he wanted to stay discreet, but he held no love for them. Still, he supposed another one might be useful, if only to allow Bulkhead and him to use another cart…

But it wasn’t a Zap-Horse they saw upon entering. Sentinel’s optics widened comically as he took in the sight of the large mechanimal installed in a corner of the barn.

It was big, for once. Dual in color, mainly pearly white with large grey spots scattered on his hide. It had horns at the top of its head -- thankfully, they didn’t seem sharp. And it had some strange bits under its belly. Sentinel sincerely didn’t know how to describe it. It looked like a bulging pouch of pale color, from which four tube-like appendices dangled in the air.

“The Pit…?” Sentinel blurted, taking a step back as the animal turned his head toward him.

“Don’t be scared, love,” Bulkhead said as he grabbed Sentinel’s arm to stop him from drawing further away. “It’s just a ChronoCow. Surely, you remember I told you about them?” he asked with an edge, silently begging Sentinel to play along as Rookwall and Lifespring looked at them curiously.

“Uh, right, right… You told me… But I had never seen a true one,” Sentinel answered quickly. In truth, he had never even seen one in picture. The name was barely familiar, though he did remember that, when he was a youngling being educated in the Youth Sectors, a teacher had told them about mechanimals and had cited the ChronoCow as being very helpful. Sentinel hadn’t cared much at the time; mechanimals didn’t interest him, and he didn’t think he would ever see one, asides of the cybercats and cyberdogs some mechs liked to adopt as pets. “I don’t think there’s any of them on Cybertron,” he added for Lifespring and Rookwall, whose faces expressed disbelief.

“No Chronocows? But then, how do you get Sparkling-grade energon?” Lifespring asked in disbelief and no little amount of anxiety.

Sentinel had to blink. What did ChronoCows had to do with Sparkling-grade energon? Why were they talking of Sparklings again, anyway? Was it the only thing on people’s minds around here? Not daring to speak and say something he could regret, he glanced at Bulkhead, who coughed.

“Well, Cybertron directly import cubes of ChronoCows’ milky-energon and sell it away in stores. Don’t you worry,” he said to Lifespring reassuredly, “all Sparklings on Cybertron get to drink some. Even Sentinel did when he was a youngling, I’m sure. He just probably didn’t realize what it was exactly,” he chuckled.

… EEEEEKKKK! Gross! Grossgrossgrossgross! Sparkling-grade energon, which he had been so fond of he had continued drinking it almost to his final upgrade, came from those beasts? Oh frag, he was so going to have to get his fuel tank replaced!

Lifespring seemed reassured by Bulkhead’s words, but his Conjunx still held a worried frown. “If Sentinel never saw a Chronocow before, then I trust he doesn’t know how to care for one? Same thing for Robo-chickens, I guess? That might not have been a good gift to give you so soon, then…”

Robo-chickens? What were Robo-chickens? Were they the things they had to go visit in the henhouse? Wait, were they expecting SENTINEL to take care of the mechanimals? No way! Bulkhead spoke before he had the time to spit something.

“Oh, but don’t you worry! I know very well of to take care of them; I’ll teach Sentinel along.”

“It’ll give you more work to do, though,” Rookwall said with a small frown. “It is… a bit sad your Endura can’t help much.” There was some desapprobation in his voice, and Sentinel bristled. Was this mech thinking of him as a failure? Sentinel hated people who thought him a failure! Oh, but he was going to show him! Right then, he decided suddenly that, dislike of mechanimals or not, he was going to do his best at learning of their care, just so he could look smugly at the fragger who thought he was useless on a farm!

… if it didn’t interfere too much with the mission, of course.

Lifespring seemed scandalized by his mate. “Rookwall!” he said disapprovingly, looking at Sentinel in excuse, and the Prime felt a burst of affection for the other mech. How nice it was, to have someone on his side!

Bulkhead shrugged off Rookwall’s words. “Well, perhaps at the beginning, until Sentinel is at ease with them, but I don’t mind so much. It’ll remind me of my younger years. And besides,” he said as he squeezed Sentinel’s aft, making him yelp in surprise and outrage, “he is my Beloved, and I wouldn’t exchange him for anything in the universe.”

“Bulkhead!” Sentinel shout, cheeks flushed. It was in rage at his actions, but Rookwall and Lifespring seemed to take it as a sign of love and embarrassment. Rookwall’s face softened, and Lifespring chuckled.

“Well,” he said, “that’s alright. You know what? I’ll gather a few datapads on the proper care of ChronoCows and Robo-chickens for you, Sentinel,” he said to the blue mech amiably. “And if you ever have question or need help, or if you’re worried for their health, just come and ask me. I’m the town veterinary physician -- a medic specialized in mechanimals’ care -- “he added at Sentinel’s blank look, “so I know how to heal and help them.”

“That’s… very kind of you, Lifespring. Thank you,” Sentinel said with a slight bow. Well, it was indeed nice of the mech to offer, and it would be something else he wouldn’t have to be concerned over.

Lifespring smiled widely. There were some more chatter. They went to the henhouse to see the famous Robo-chickens -- four of them, peacefully installed in nests and seemingly asleep -- which didn’t bother Sentinel has much as the ChronoCows had, though his mouth did drop in shock when he was told about metaleggs.

_(“It can’t be safe to consume!” “Of course it is, dear; it’s even one of the main ingredients in the pies and cakes you eat earlier!” “...” “It’s only what’s inside the metaleggs which is edible; it’s gelled energon with a liquid metal core. Very tasty. Why, I think Pollen plans to teach you how to use them to make an omelette tomorrow!” “... Right.”)_

In the end, the two couples separated amiably, Bulkhead and Sentinel going back to the farm proper to say ‘goodbye’ to the other guests, while Rookwall and Lifespring excused themselves and left after gathering two Sparklings. Hmm, they were lucky then, to have two, Sentinel mused as he watched them leave. Most people he knew had trouble having a single one.

Not wasting more time to think about it -- or about the metal-eggs gathering or the ChronoCows’... milking which were apparently traditional tasks of the Enduras -- Sentinel put up a fake smile and went to shake hands as couples defiled for a final goodbye.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have any other nasty surprises while they stayed here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
>  
> 
> • Marriage ceremony: For energon farmers, the Bonding ceremony is in two parts. First, it's a blessing by the Head Priest of the local Temple, followed by the groom taking his new bride on Primus’ Altar, in front of witness. The groom then takes his bride in his arms and carry him/her to their new home at the head of a procession of cheering townfolks. He carries him/her to their berthroom, where they consume their wedding again and share sparks to truly bond. Once they’re finished, they hang the sheets of the berth at the window as proof. While they’re busy, townfolks/fellow farmers prepare the wedding feast. Bride and groom then enjoy the large meal, dance and receive gifts: seeds, tools, fabrics for clothes, mechanimals,...
> 
>  
> 
> **Mechanicrops:**
> 
> Cryo-carrots  
> Photon-potatoes  
> Metallo-Maize  
> Wire-Wheat  
> Oxide-oat  
> Electo-matoes  
> Opal-olives  
> Beryl-beans  
> Nano-grapes  
> Crystalberries  
> RubidiumRoses  
> TungstenLillies  
> Carbon-cabbages  
> Plumbum-kiin  
> Aurum-apples  
> Hydrogen-Honey  
> Tungsten-Turnips  
> Selenium-strawberries  
> Aurora-flora crystals  
> Silicon-salads  
> Plasma-peas  
> Copper-cucumbers  
> Hydro-melons  
> Magna-mushrooms  
> Ovoid-oranges  
> Proto-peaches  
> Cobalt-Cherries  
> Argon-pears  
> Ion-yams  
> Alloy-onions  
> Carbon-Garlic
> 
>  
> 
> **Mechanimals:**
> 
> Zap-Horses  
> ChronoCows  
> Robo-Chickens  
> Cybercats  
> Cyberdogs  
> Electrosheeps  
> Boron-Bees  
> Wild IronBoars  
> Glitchmices  
> Petrorabbits  
> Turbo-Bears


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Sentinel to learn how to fulfill his duties as Endura. He could have done without the local gossip, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sentinel starts playing housewife. =3

“... and now you need to add the slice of Aurum-apple with the MetalEggs, Milk-Energon and Hygroden-Honey custard, just like I’m doing, see?” Pollen said as he started to place several slices on the dough.

Sentinel nodded politely and did as he was told with his own Aurum-apples pie. It was… well, it wasn’t complicated, but he would have rather been doing something else. His only consolation so far was that, at least, he was getting the hang of cooking. A bit. His patience -- and his sheer stubbornness -- were slowly getting rewarded at the term of this first ‘cooking lesson’.

Bulkhead had accompanied him at Happy Vale, Nightglow’s residence, earlier today, as soon as he had showed him how to milk the ChronoCow and how to brush it -- eck, he had even forced him to put his hands on the tubes that produced the Sparkling-grade energon! Brr…Thankfully, it hadn’t lasted long, but Sentinel swore he would rather work in the fields than do that again. Sure, the job was apparently incredibly long and tiring, but mechanicrops, he could deal with. They weren’t… well, they weren’t putting him on edge like the mechanimals did.

Nightglow had welcomed with open arms and a hug, inviting him inside. There already were four other mechs and femmes inside -- Greenlight, who lived on the Sighing Brook farm, Pollen, the carrying mech who lived on Fruitful Orchard farm, Scythe, a mech who lived on Sweet Dale, and Roller, who lived on Mill Stream. From what Sentinel gathered, more had wished to come, but had been kept away by their own work and so wouldn’t assist to today’s reunion.

In a way, Sentinel was thankful for it; better not make a fool of himself before more mechs. And made a fool of himself he almost did. Kinda. Well, technically, he supposed, one could say he had acted pretty silly. But it wasn’t like he had expected the MetalEggs to broke so easily in his hands! He hadn’t meant to squeeze them so hard! And was it his fault that the mechs supervising him in the kitchen hadn’t told him the oil he was to use wasn’t supposed to go on the flame but in the pan? The fact he had burned the first -- and kinda the second -- ‘omelette’ were pretty excusable, he was sure; so perhaps he should have checked the cooking a bit more closely, but he was just starting! Give him a break!

It helped sooth his ego that no one laughed at him. In fact, to help him relax, Greenlight and Scythe had both joked about their own first attempts at cooking a decent dish. Granted, they had been youngling themselves at the time, and had tried on more complicated thing that an omelette, which was apparently pretty basic stuff, but still… To have them make fun of themselves and praising Sentinel had helped the Prime puff his chest in pride.

Of course, it took him some more tries before he managed to get the recipe right. The third one was undercooked -- he had been so wary of burning it one more time he had taken it off before it had a chance to. The four was full of shell shards -- his move had been unsteady when he broke the Metaleggs, resulting in cracks and shards he hadn’t noticed right away, too busy starting to mix the preparation. The fifth was awfully spiced -- he had added too much Iron-Salt and Pewter-Pepper, as well as too many other seasonings. The sixth, however, wasn’t spiced enough, but everybody had told him one could just add them to his convenience in his or her own plate, so it was no big deal. the seven and eight attempts, however, had been frank success, resulting in cheers and applauses.

He could now pretend he knew how to cook an omelette. And he could also do scrambled eggs, which they had showed him next. He had managed this one in three attempts, so Sentinel thought he had a right to be proud of himself.

Then, they had showed him how to properly prepare and slice ‘raw’ mechanicrops like Electo-matoes and Copper-cucumbers; it had been fairly easy, if only because Sentinel knew his way with a knife. Elite Guard trainees were taught how to use on in combat, and also how to use one for some urgency medical treatments on injuries. Sure, the knife had slipped a couple of time and he had almost cut himself, but Sentinel could proudly say he did know how to slice mechanicrops. Or at least, some kinds of mechanicrops.

They then taught him how to make what they called a ‘vinaigrette’, a kind of liquid seasonings made from mixed fluids, supposed to make the mechanicrops tastier. Sentinel didn’t quite have the hand on it yet; he found he had a hard time measuring the right proportion of crystalberries-vinegar and Aurora-flora oil.

Nightglow had comforted him. “It’s okay, dear. It can be complicated to do right even for us. And really, the recipe can change a bit depending on who prepares it and his personal taste. Pollen usually add Beryllium-Beetroots sugar to make it sweeter, for example. Some, like Groundsplint, Roller’s Conjunx, prefers it more spiced, so he put more vinegars and metal alloy particles in. You’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly, I’m sure.”

Small comfort.

While Greenlight and Scythe and Nightglow ‘showed him the ropes’, Roller and Pollen had worked on their own recipes, sweet delicacies like Cobalt-Cherries tart and Copper-Cookies with tin chips.

As they decided to call it a day and praised Sentinel on his progresses, Pollen had called him over to help him finish a pair of Aurum-Apples pies, following his own recipe. So he went closer and tried to (almost) patiently listen as Pollen droned on the finer points of making a good custard, how to make slices of Aurum-Apples just the good size, how thin or thick the dough had to be,...

Sentinel could only nod along and assist as he was told, least he would seem rude.

“... And here, we just put the second layer of dough on top to cover the filling! Now, you have to be careful when you join the two dough layers, just so they can enclose the filling perfectly. See? Now, you just need to pierce a few hole in the top layers -- no, no, not so big!... yes, better -- so steam will be able to escape. Well, it’s really to be put in the oven. They’ll be ready in half a megacycle,” Pollen nodded in satisfaction. “While they cook, we’ll change activity.”

Sentinel sighed in relief. Finished, finally. Not that he would complain about the cooking too much, since he didn’t want to starve -- sure, he still had a few energon cubes in reserve, but they wouldn’t last, so better switch to the natives’ diet as soon as possible -- but it had seemed far too long for him. And he knew he would need to come back and take other lessons anyway; omelettes and raw mechanicrops were a start, but he knew they weren’t sufficient. To say nothing of the other… skills they wanted him to be taught.

Wiping his hands clean on his apron, Sentinel let himself drop in a nearby chair. “Right. So, what now?”

“Now, we retreat to the living room,” Nightglow said as he finished drying a plate. The other two mechs and the lone femme had handled the dishwashing while Pollen made him participate to his ‘culinary masterpiece’. “We’re going to take light snack, then we’ll show you how to do basic sewing stitches. It’ll give us the occasion to chat a bit as we work.”

Sentinel nodded quietly. Right. Sewing. Stupid idea. But he couldn’t say it aloud, could he? However, he looked a bit more forward the chat. Conversation, even casual, would give him the occasion to learn more on each of these mechs.

Back at Shady Acres, hidden in a secret compartment in one of the unused berthrooms, Sentinel had hidden away a map of the area, given to him by Intelligence. However, it was a rather imprecise one, as it had been taken during an aerial reconnaissance aboard a shuttle going toward Riverbend. They had an idea of the general areas and of where buildings laid and how large fields were, but they didn’t know to whom belonged each lands, nor who lived on each farm. Bulkhead had started to scribble down some info -- Farrier and Nightglow at Happy Vale, Mayor Levitacus and his spouses at Bright Crystal, the Temple of Primus and its hallowed ground/field, surrounded by a barrier, where Father Spica, Sister Ara, Sister Alhena, Pastor Acrux and Pastor Alkes resides, ... -- but they were far from having all the necessaries info on who lived where and who was who in the farming community.

As long as they didn’t, they couldn’t properly work on finding the traitors and the Decepticons who must have been hidden somewhere in or near the village, perhaps even in the Crystal Woods at the edge of their own farm!

As much as Sentinel wanted to deny Bulkhead was in the true, they couldn’t just do much without knowing more about their neighbors. Who knew what dark secrets lurked behind these happy smiles and obvious -- perhaps too obvious -- candor and helpfulness?

They also needed to correctly install their equipment somewhere. Intelligence had furnished them with a radar to detect possible Decepticon aircrafts (in case they were a ship around), cameras to be used at their discretion to surveil suspicious places, and various kinds of detectors, crafted to detect Decepticons’ radio airwaves and other signals. Bulkhead was roaming their fields to find the better place to install them, and they had planned on going on ‘walks’ to pick out other places of interest.

And while he did so, it was Sentinel’s duty to subtlety interrogate the mechs he met with.

Though, to be honest, he didn’t know where to begin. He sincerely doubted that a direct question, even said offhandedly like ‘did you see any suspicious mech around?’ or ‘do you think this mech is working for the Decepticon?’ was going to be well received. So, he didn’t know what he could or couldn’t say.

Perhaps it would be wiser, the first few times, to just listen to what they talked about? Perhaps also answer some of their own questions about him and Bulkhead, to further make it obvious they were a normal couple settling him, nothing suspicious about them aside of the fact Sentinel was what they called a ‘citybot’, so he didn’t know how to cook or sew like they did?

Yes, he decided as he sat down in a comfortable chair around a low table in the living room, just as the Enduras put the Copper-Cookies and the Cobalt-Cherries tart on it. He would let them lead the conversation and fill all details away so he could sort them out later.

Everyone started to settle down, everyone taking what Sentinel was told was their current sewing or knitting projects out of their respective subspaces. It mostly seemed to be dresses, and Sentinel made a face. Greenlight, the only one doing something other than a dress, seemed to be knitting a cape with a hood in Electrosheep wool.

“It’s for my Lancer,” she said at Sentinel’s curious, polite question. She had a slightly dreamy smile to her. “I want to give it to her for her Creation Day; a nice, warmth cape for when she’s forced to go outside at night.”

Ah ah! Something possibly interesting! “Does she do that often?” he asked politely, hoping it wasn’t too blunt.

Greenlight gave an unhappy smile and a sigh. “Far more often than I would like, but she can’t help it. Turbofoxes have been preying on our Robo-chickens for decacyles now; we already lost four already! As they mostly come at night, Lancer often stands vigil outside with a lasergun to take them down.”

“Yes, turbofoxes are a real plague these days,” Roller agreed as he nibbled on a Copper-Cookie, his unfinished dress laying on his knees. “Groundsplint and I caught one in the henhouse the other day, and just in time at that! He hadn’t killed any of our poor Robo-chickens yet, but it was a close thing.”

There were general agreement around, and Sentinel tried not to be too sorry. Clearly, it would have been too simple if he had found the Decepticons informants right away. As he took a Copper-Cookie of his own to mask his trouble, Nightglow came to him with a some square of Helio-Cotton, needles and thread.

“Here, Sentinel. That’s for you,” he said as he sat on the chair next to Sentinel and handed him everything. “We’re going to start slow and show you how to hem napkins and tea towels. It’s one of the simplest thing possible. Then, if we have time, I’ll show you how to do some simple embroidery stitches to decorate them. Here, let me show you. It’s called a running stitch...”

He smiled at Sentinel as if the Prime was a learning youngling. It was rather irritating, but understandable, if every mech around here learned to do things like that ever since he was a sparkling. Tried to not show how bothered that made him, he tried to focus on Nightglow’s explanations and gestures. If it was that simple, then he would pick it out immediately. He was the sub-commander of the Elite Guard, after all! He could do anything!

Heming, he found out, wasn’t as simple as Nightglow had pretended it was. The thread kept sliding out of the eye of the needle. It also seemed to break easily. He kept stinging himself with the needle, and he actually broke two against the plating of his fingers. Then there was the stitches themselves; he had trouble keeping them even in space and length, and had to remake them several times over before he got a correct result. All the while, he struggled not to swear. And that what they called easy?

“You’re doing fine, Sentinel,” Nightglow kept reassuring him. “It’s alright if you struggle a bit at first. Nobody expects you to be perfect at everything on your first try.”

“It’s true,” Scythe said as he finished sewing the sleeve of a dress on and inspected his work with a critical optics, trying to determinate if he needed to reinforce the stitches he had already done. “I do remember, as a youngling, when my Carrier tried to teach me. She made me start with handkerchiefs. She kept unmaking my stitches because she was dissatisfied with my results. A perfectionist, she was,” he said, shaking his head. “Then again, we didn’t have that much fabric to spare for sewing lessons, so it was normal she made me work again and again on a single square of Helio-Cotton.”

“Oh? Does it grow sparsely around here?” Sentinel asked, trying to be polite. He rather suspected Scythe’s family had been too poor to buy what it needed, but the light grey mech with a black face clad in blue shook his head.

“Oh no, about every farmer here grow some Helio-Cotton of his own, though not always in big quantity. We mainly work with Electrosheeps wool, anyway. But it took time to weave it, what’s with all the other daily tasks we had to accomplish, so we had to wait quite a bit to get enough for bolts.”

“It’s lucky for you your Mayor managed to secure a deal with the Guild, then,” Sentinel commented as he narrowly escaped yet another sting from the needle.

Scythe snorted, and the other exchanged amused looks. Bemused, Sentinel looked at them, wondering what he had said that was so funny. “Mayor Levitacus likes to think he’s the only responsible for it, but everybody here knows it wouldn’t have been possible without Spindle.”

“Spindle?” Sentinel inquired politely, vaguely interested.

“You wouldn’t know him, he wasn’t here yesterday for the Bonding ceremony; he had to go to Primus’ Gift, further down the river, to get yet another chargement of thread,” Roller explained.

“Hush, my fellow Goodwives, it’s not the best way to begin the tale,” Greenlight interrupted and turned toward Sentinel. “You see, Spindle was born and raised here, on Lacey Lawn. I remember, when I was a youngling, he kept coming to play with my older brother. Anyway, growing up, he decided he wasn’t too interested by farming and asked to be sent to Riverbend to start an apprenticeship with the Weaver Guild. He always like dealing with thread and yarn and fabric more than working in a field,” she shook her head fondly. “He’s the one who really got the idea and secured the deal with the Guild. It’s really genius! You see, most of our Helio-Cotton and our Electrosheeps wool is gathered by him -- and he keeps trace of who gave him what and what he must give back -- and bring it to the Guild’s building in Riverbend, where everything is weaved together by the apprentices. That way, we give them work and a way to better their skills, and we manage to get good quality fabric in return. It proved to be so popular a deal that it spread to a few of the other villages. As such, Spingle spends more time on the roads than at weaving, but he seems to be happy like it,” Greenlight finished.

“Ah, I see,” Sentinel nodded. That was rather interesting; a mech who spent his time on the road could very well be a spy. He’d need to check him out later on. Carefully, he made a last stitch then cut the thread after making a knot at the linen’s level. He looked at the finished tea towel with a frown. He could guess by himself that it wasn’t very impressing, but Nightglow looked the square of fabric over with a nod.

“For a beginner, it’s very good, Sentinel! Now, how about I show you how to make backstitches? This way, you’ll be able to decorate it a bit,” he smiled encouragingly.

Sentinel shrugged and nodded in agreement, and Nightglow immediately started to show him what to do. Although he tried to follow correctly, his optics caught on what Roller was doing. He seemed to have finished with his dress for now and had switched work, instead working on a lacy white undergarment.

It uncomfortably reminded Sentinel of his lack of panel under his dress, only hidden away by the skirt and (barely) by the crotchless panties he had put on, Bulkhead having pointed out they at least covered some, and if wind raised his skirt, anyone who saw anything wouldn’t get treated to a full show. His valve had stopped aching after yesterday’s… events, for which he was thankful. He sincerely hoped never to live through that again.

And damn, he wanted his panel back! He needed to go to the Temple to get it back…though Bulkhead had advised against barging in. He hadn’t said much, but the Prime got the feeling the panel was supposed to be returned at some point. Just, the big mech hadn’t precised when, and it bothered Sentinel more than anything. He didn’t want to stay so… so… so vulnerable to everything!

He coughed, trying to catch their attention. “Uh… I wanted to ask… ah, I was kinda wondering… I… it’s about… aboutmyvalvecover,” he said pretty quickly, and everyone looked at him in surprise. “I… I just… it’s… I was wondering… get it back… when… perhaps?” he shuffled, feeling uncomfortable under their gaze. He kept rubbing his fingers together in nervousness.

Pollen and Roller exchanged a look and Scythe hummed softly. Greenlight giggled a bit, and Nightglow gave him a smile. “Oh! Oh, that! Don’t you worry, Pastor Acrux should be finished with it today. He usually is by the end of the day following the Bonding, and he should pass at Shady Acres tonight with your due,” he reassured Sentinel easily.

Well, that was reassuring. Sentinel sighed in relief. Just a couple of megacycles more to wait, then. Though hearing of ‘due’ instead of ‘panel’ weirded him out a bit. Perhaps they were just too shy to speak openly about this bit of armor?

Shrugging, he started to follow Nightglow’s teaching and practices these… backstitches he had showed him. It wasn’t exactly easy, but to help him along, the other mech had draw a model on the white square of Helio-Cotton, a thin circle Sentinel just had to follow. In a way, it was considerably easier than the heming. Of course, he still had to fight with a thread which kept sliding, and stings to his fingers. Thankfully, they didn’t hurt, just raised some awareness in his tactile system.

After a while, tired, he decided to take a break. People had fallen mostly silent as they worked on more intricate works than his own. He absentmindedly reached for the plate of Copper-Cookies, but found it already empty. Raising his gaze, he crossed optics with Pollen, who was nibbling on the last and gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, dear. I just couldn’t control myself. This one,” he said with a soft smile as he caressed his swollen abdomen through his dress, “is quite voracious, I’m afraid.”

“That… that’s alright,” Sentinel said trying not to stare too much at the large bulge under Pollen’s dress. It had been easy to concentrate on other things before, but right now, his CPU scrambled for something to say. “Hum is that your first?” he inquired politely.

Everybody paused in their work, looked at each other, then burst into laughter. Sentinel jerked back in his chair, surprised. Pollen had cleaning fluid gathering in his optics as he laughed hard. Greenlight was more into giggle, and Nightglow tried to mask his own laugh with a cough.

“I don’t see what I said that was so funny,” Sentinel asked frostingly. Why were they mocking him? It was a very reasonable question!

The laugher quieted down pretty quickly. Pollen rubbed the optical fluid away as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Sentinel. It isn’t really at you we’re laughing, but… I’ve been Bonded to Huller for a hundred of vorns now,” he explained with a smile.

Sentinel didn’t see the significance. He knew several couples who had waited twice as long before having their first -- and often only -- sparkling, and even more. His own Creators, for example, had been bonded for seven hundred vorns before he was sparked.

Seeing Sentinel still wasn’t understanding, Pollen gave him a guarded look. “It’s actually my sixth, Sentinel. Don’t you remember seeing all my sparklings yesterday? Then again, we didn’t have time to present them to you either, did we? There was Cisel, who was giving Spore mashed Photon-Potatoes, and Carver, and Germina, and Rockrose. All my little family,” he said fondly. “I’m most blessed Primus allowed me to carry so many, and I sincerely hope he allow me the gift of other little ones after this one,” he finished, hands over his abdomen.

“You should ask Moonshift for pointers and prayers, then. He’s very fertile,” Roller pointed out. “How many did he carry for Tidalwave again? Ten?”

“Eleven,” corrected Scythe. “You just never met the eldest, he’s on the other side of the planet and haven’t come to visit since you arrived here. And why couldn’t I also pray for Pollen? I have eight sparklings of my own, if you remember well,” he said jokingly, poking at Roller who raised his hands in surrender.

“I surrender, I surrender,” he said, rolling his optics behind his visor. “Perhaps you could also pray for me, then?” he asked teasingly. “With my two, I’m afraid I’m not even competition for you two yet. Perhaps with Nightglow and Greenlight, who only have three each? Don’t you feel left out, guys?”

“Not really. I know it only a matter of time before I bear a new little one. It’ll will come in time,” Nightglow commented, smiling. “Just look at Shock and Brimstone; their nine sparklings aren’t all close in age, but there are nine of them altogether. Just like there are eight in Steelflail and Furrow’s household, and seven under Auger and Mistcover’s roof,” he pointed out. “I trust Primus to gift me with a large family too, when he’d have decided the moment is right for me to carry again.”

Greenlight nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes! Just like he said.”

“So you see, Sentinel, that what we found so funny,” Pollen explained. “Really, our first… Sentinel? Sentinel, are you feeling well?” he asked worriedly as he caught the rather discomposed look on Sentinel’s face.

“Y… yes, I’m alright,” he squeaked, hands grasping the arms of the chair with force. “I was just… a bit surprised, that all.”

Nine, eight, eleven, seven sparkings? Was there something special in the fuel here?! Nobody on Cybertron had as many! Most couple barely managed one, perhaps two if they were very lucky, and it was considered a miracle if a third managed to get produced! How the hell did farmers on a backwater planet managed to get so large families?

Nightglow patted his hand to get his attention. “I must say, Sentinel I find myself curious. Have you and Bulkhead already decided on how many sparklings you wanted to try for?”

“Uh, I didn’t think I would have more than one or two, to be honest,” he said without thinking.

It sincerely startled the Enduras, who all looked as if they had been struck by lightning.

“One or two?” mouthed Greenlight in disbelief.

Nightglow grasped Sentinel’s hands with force. He seemed horrified. “Sentinel, tell me the truth! Are you sick? Is your spark weak? Do you have health problems? Low fertility?”

Sentinel felt dumbfounded. “No, not that I know of,” he answered on by reflex.

“Then why limit yourself to so fews?” Pollen asked in disbelief. The other leaned forward in horrified fascination.

“Well, uh…” Sentinel paused and tried to gather his thoughts. How exactly could he tell them that? “On Cybertron,” he said carefully, “it’s rare couples have more than one. I was an only creation,” he explained.

Greenlight had a shocked gasp and rose out of the couch she was in to hug him. “Oh you poor dear! You must have been so lonely growing up!”

Well, perhaps a bit, Sentinel thought. His creators had often been away for work, and the Youth Sectors had handled most of his education. But he had turned out very fine! Loneliness as a youngling wasn’t important!

Scythe was frowning. “Do you know why they don’t get more? A loving, good Bonded should produce more!”

“Ah, eh…” Sentinel fumbled, not sure of what to say.

“I think it should be evident,” Pollen cut in. “These bots must use…” he paused, looking very angered. “... contraception!” he finished in a whisper. The other made shocked or angry gasps. Sentinel raised an optic ridge. Sure, contraceptive patches and chips were in use, but to accuse them of being the sole reason… Pollen wasn’t finished. He looked now pretty distraught. “Worse, even. You remember what Spindle said on those offworlders? He said they… that… he said abortion was legal to them!”

The whole room exploded in distressed sounds, and Sentinel had to put his hands over his audio receptors to muffle the noise.

“Disgusting,” Roller said, almost growling. “How could anyone with a spark do it?!”

“They’re sinner, allowing such things,” Scythe nodded eagerly. “I’m sure they’re barren because Primus wants to punish them for their wicked ways!”

“You wouldn’t do that, would you, Sentinel?” Pollen asked worriedly, though there was a hint of something in his voice. Everyone now looked at him with wary optics.

Sentinel swallowed. “Of… of course not! I… I just said one or two because I didn’t think it would be possible for me to have more! But now that we here… on this fine planet… in this fine little town… with so many young sparks running around…” he fumbled a bit, searching his words. He needed to have them believe him. He needed to convince them he wanted to have as many sparklings as them -- which he totally didn’t. He also made a mental note to better hide his contraceptive chips, less they would cause a stir. “Well, I’d like to have a lot more! As many as I can carry! I… I’ll pray Primus every cycle so he fulfils my wish!” he said with force.

The other all seemed to relax at his words. They all smiled at him.

“You’re a good mech, Sentinel,” Nightglow said, nodding approvingly at him. “I’m sure Primus will listen to you and soon give you a sparkling of your own to raise and love.”

Sentinel nodded slightly with a tense smile. “I’m sure he will too.”

Greenlight hummed a bit. “Primus will help, I’m sure too. Still, it isn’t him who’s going to do most of the job.”

“Greenlight,” Scythe said disapprovingly.

The green femme raised her hands in defense. “I’m just saying, Primus will accomplish itself faster when your Conjunx has a long, large spike to fill you. Why, Lancer takes good care of making me ride her spike every cycle, and mech, does it feel good!” she said with a goofy smile.

Pollen smiled and chuckled. “Well, she isn’t totally wrong about it. My Huller stuffed me so full so many time a day, it was no wonder Primus choose to answer our prays for a sixth so fast.”

Wait, what?! Sentinel thought he was going to choke. Or faint. Or… Or something. Were they really speaking about…?

Scythe hummed a bit, thinking. “Yes… Yes, there is truth to that. My Baler rides me thrice a day at the very least. He stretches me so wide, so good,” he moaned pleasantly. “And he puts those nicely shaped plugs into me each time, in hope it will help me get sparked up faster!”

“Groundsplint too is fond of filling me with a plug when he’s done with me,” Roller said casually. “Why, I’m wearing one right now.” Everybody started to make ‘oooh’ and ‘ahh’ of approbation, chuckling and bantering.

Okay, Sentinel was definitely going to die in embarrassment. They were really talking about their interface life in public?! Oh Primus, he was going to need some memory cleanser programs. Lot and lot of it! He so didn’t need to learn these things!

“I must admit, we couldn’t keep our steady rhythm of five times a day these last orns,” Nightglow said mournfully. “After the disaster our latest harvest was, Farrier was just so busy scrambling to save what could be…” he sighed. “I’m happy if he manages to stuff me twice a day nowaday.”

“You poor, poor dear,” Greenlight said, visibly sad for the mech. She leaned forward and patted his hand in sympathy. Everybody seemed to said things like that: ‘poor darling’ and ‘I hope it’ll get better soon’.

Nightglow shook his head. “Oh, don’t be sorry. We’ll pull through and we’ll have more time for ourselves soon. Besides,” he smiled. “With the next festival, we’ll definitely get the time to properly interface.” Everybody chuckled at that.

Festival? Before Sentinel could ask about it, he was interrupted.

“And you, Sentinel?”

“Uh?” he said, blinking, Spark sinking as everybody once again looked at him in interest. “What, me?”

Greenlight tapped her foot. “Well, just how are things doing with Bulkhead? Is his spike as nice as it looks like?”

WHAT?! Sentinel’s whole body rose in heat. Had she sincerely asked him that?! What the frag was wrong with these people?!

“Greenlight! They’ve only been bonded since yesterday,” Pollen chided her gently. “How do you want him to answer your question when he had so little time to fully enjoy it yet? Besides, they’re still settling in the farm. I’m sure he’s still discovering how talented his Conjunx is. Aren’t you, Sentinel?”

The Prime nodded very slowly and stiffly. His whole body felt frozen, even as his systems were running incredibly hot.

“From the blush alone, I’d say what he managed to get was still pretty good,” Scythe commented offhandedly. Sentinel had the sudden urge to leap over the table and strangle him. He forced himself to stay calm and quiet and try to smile, even if it was more a rictus than a smile at this point. He was not going to discuss his interface life with them. Not now, not ever! And he didn’t intend to interface with Bulkhead again, damn it! Though they couldn’t know about it, nor could they know about his stock of contraceptives chips. He wasn’t about to just praise Bulkhead’s spike in public like they seemed to do with their respective Bonded! Frag, he hoped it was just a one time thing, because they were overcharged or something -- though they hadn’t consumed high grade.

“Oh, Scythe, don’t tease him, it isn’t nice,” Nightglow chided. “Though…” he blushed a bit as he looked at Sentinel. “From what we saw, he certainly have one of the biggest spikes in town. It’d be interesting to… hear about that.”

He was definitely going to die of sheer shock. What was he supposed to say? Was there even something to say?

He was saved the trouble to give an answer by a knock at the door. Nightglow rose and straightened his dress before he went to open.

“Oh, Bulkhead! You’re here already?”

Oh, sweet salvation, Sentinel almost wept. Finally a chance to escape what was probably the most awkward and traumatizing moment of his existence -- aside of Elita’s fall. Nothing could ever be more atrocious. Even seeing the twisted creature who pretended to be her hadn’t been as bad.

Bulkhead entered. “Yes, I finished early. Hopefully, I’ll be able to plant the first seeds tomorrow at the earliest, or in a day or two if I can’t.” As he came to the living room, he bowed before the assembled Enduras. “Goodwives,” he said kindly.

They all nodded their greeting peacefully. Walking over the chair Sentinel was in, he leaned over him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Sentinel twitched a bit, but didn’t raise his voice. They were supposed to play a couple, and couple did kiss. The Enduras kept looking lovingly and approvingly at them.

“Hello there, Beloved. I trust your afternoon was fruitful?” he asked Sentinel, taking his hand in his own.

“Yes it was,” Sentinel answered simply. “I did learn how to make omelette… dear.”

Bulkhead had to grin. “Really? That’s wonderful! I can’t wait for you to show me at tonight refueling!” He looked over the assembled Enduras. “Thank you so much for taking on your time to show him the ropes.”

“Think nothing of it, it was perfectly normal,” Scythe said with a bow. “He’s making progresses already, we can tell. But it would be good for him if we could hold more reunions like this one…?” he asked carefully, seeking Bulkhead approval.

Sentinel had to frown a bit. Why couldn’t anyone ask for his advice? Why did they always had to pass by Bulkhead? The large green mech nodded eagerly. “But of course! I was going to propose it anyway! However, perhaps not for a few more days? I need Sentinel help to plough and seed the fields,” he explained.

“Oh! But of course! Farm first!” Greenlight said with excitement. “We can see in a few cycles what the most favorable date would be!”

“Right. I trust you to keep us informed. That said, my gentle Goodwives, I’m afraid Sentinel and I have to leave,” Bulkhead said as he helped Sentinel rise from his chair.

“Oh, before you go!” Pollen said as he jumped out of the couch he was in and walked quickly to the kitchen. He came back with one of the two Aurum-Apples pies they had made earlier today. “This is for you, Goodmech Bulkhead. Sentinel helped me to do it. I trust you’ll like it.” He smiled and winked at Sentinel.

Bulkhead’s optics lightened. “Ooooh! Aurum-apples pie! My favorite!” He smiled goofily before tilting Sentinel’s head up to kiss him, just as he fondled his aft. “Thank you so much Sentinel! And thank you so much, Pollen!”

“Bulkhead!” Sentinel sputtered, jerking away. A kiss on the cheek was alright, but he wasn’t forced to kiss him on the mouth! And he wasn’t forced either to put his hands on his aft, damnit!

“Your Endura is kinda shy,” Greenlight said teasingly.

Bulkhead laughed nervously. “Uh, yeah, he is. Just a bit.”

“I’m not shy,” Sentinel groused unhappily. “I just think some things shouldn’t be done in public.”

“That’s what we call shy, dearest,” Roller chuckled, as everybody grinned at Sentinel.

Sentinel huffed and turned his head away. “Well, shall we go?” he asked Bulkhead in a level tone.

The hulking mech nodded. “Of course, my Beloved. Goodwives,” he bowed once again, “I wish you a good end for this lovely day. Please, don’t forget to transmit to your gentle Conjunx my wishes of good fortune.”

“We will for sure,” Nightglow said, bowing. “I hope to see you again soon, Goodmech Bulkhead, Goodwife Sentinel.”

He accompanied them toward the door, and bid them farewell under the veranda before going back to the rest of his guests. Sentinel and Bulkhead walked calmly to the Zap-Horses cart. Sentinel didn’t protest when Bulkhead helped him in, as to not dirty his dress. He stayed pretty quiet until they reached the main road.

Then he exploded.

“The Pit is wrong with everyone here?!” Bulkhead blinked, obviously taken aback by the sudden outburst. “I mean, do you have any idea of what just happened?”

“Uh, you learned how to make a good omelette and hopefully some more dishes?” he asked hopefully.

Sentinel shrieked. “No!... Well, perhaps I did, but that’s not the point! Do you know how many sparklings they all have? If any of them has less than five, it sounds like a fragging miracle! They reproduce like Petrorabbits! And you know they expect me to bear as many? Frag, I get the feeling they would have lynched me had they known I was on contr… mphh!”

His rant was forcefully stopped by Bulkhead.

“Sshhh,” he hissed. “Never say that word! You never know who could listen,” he said, looking around. The Zap-Horses took a bit more speed. “And yes, I have a good idea they’d want you to have lot of sparklings. That’s what Enduras do.”

“Right,” Sentinel snorted. “Well, newsflash, I’m not a real Endura; I won’t carry ten or so bitlets just to please or be blessed by Primus.”

“Thirteen,” Bulkhead corrected. Sentinel gave him a look. “It’s thirteen, the blessed number. The Book of Primus says that Primus created the first Thirteen, who had thirteen creations each in turn, who then also had thirteen creations themselves, and the next generation and the next… Well, you get the idea. That’s how our species came about for the theologists.”

“Nice to know,” Sentinel said sarcastically. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to bear thirteen sparklings. And slag, do you know what they were speaking about just before you came in? Their interface life! Do you have any idea of how embarrassed I was? I thought I was going to melt in a puddle of shame!” he bellowed. Bulkhead blushed and grunted a bit but didn’t answer. Sentinel glared at him. “And you! what was the big idea about fondling my aft?!”

“I just tried to divert any suspicion,” the green mech defended himself. “I mean, we’re supposed to be Bonded, it’s normal for Bonded couples to act like that. They wouldn’t have understood if I hadn’t.”

“So you say!” Sentinel barked.

Bulkhead looked annoyed. “Sentinel, remind me once again, who was sparked and raised in an energon farm, with all the cultural things it entails? I know what I’m doing, so try and trust me, will you?”

Sentinel grunted and turned his head away. Trust… yeah, right. He couldn’t wait for this mission to be over already, so he could get away from well-meaning but incredibly shameless farmers, mechanimals which scared him and mechanicrops he couldn’t keep the names straight.

The road to Shad Acres was mainly followed in silence. Bulkhead tried to start small talk, but Sentinel kept giving him looks and kept his lips resolutely sealed. Finally getting the hint, Bulkhead sighed and focused on driving the Zap-Horses cart faster.

By the time they reached Shady Acres, some of Sentinel’s ill mood had calmed down. Bulkhead was, as hard as it was to admit, a point. They needed to look like a normal couple. Still, he had no need to grab his aft! The kiss should have been sufficient! Yeah… though he knew that, even on Cybertron, newly Bonded mechas just didn’t take much care in hiding their love; while not quite fondling each others in public, they tended to keep exchanging little, chaste kisses, little caresses and amorous looks. Farmers seemed to be a bit more demonstrative… but perhaps they could be convinced by Cybertron’s minimum standards? Yes, Sentinel decided, they could certainly make it work without having Bulkhead paw at him to show they were ‘in love’.

“Bulkhead…” he started to say, before cutting himself as the Zap-Horses stopped. There was someone in front of the house. Sitting on the steps leading to the veranda and the door, one of the Temple’s Femme was sitting almost regally. She wore the traditional grey robe associated with priesthood, and a light white veil currently draped over her shoulders. Calming, she was muttering a prayer while playing a rosary. As she finished her prayer, she looked on at them with a smile and rose to her feet.

“Greeting, Goodmech Bulkhead, Goodwife Sentinel,” she said with a bow as she put the rosary away.

“Greeting, Sister Alhena,” Bulkhead greeted jovially, and Sentinel followed after a bit. It amazed him how quickly the hulking mech seemed to have memorized the names of every mechs and femmes they had come across. Sentinel himself was still struggling with some... -- ok, most of them. “What brings you to our humble home, Sister?” Bulkhead inquired politely as he helped Sentinel down.

The Sister -- her optics were purple, Sentinel noticed absently -- smiled. “Well, I was on my way back to Misty Marsh, and I decided to make a stop here first to hand you your belongings.” She reached for her subspace pocket and took out a small box decorated with a bow. Sentinel’s spark jumped. His panel! It had to be! Then Enduras had said it could get it back by the end of the day-cycle, so it had to be it.

“Pastor Acrux finished the carving earlier today, but he couldn’t come himself to bring it to you,” Sister Alhena explained. Carved? Had they etched things on the panel? Slag!... Well, he could live with it, he supposed. It was probably another of these stupid rituals they had. “Since I had to go to Misty Marsh anyway, I offered to make the delivery.”

“It is most kind of you, Sister,” Bulkhead said solemnly. Sentinel nodded stiffly and reached for the box. Sister Alhena gave him with a smile and a bow. Sentinel felt his spark beat faster as his servos tightened around the small metal box.

“I hope you won’t mind my quick leaving, but I really must go,” Sister Alhena said, bowing once more. “I can’t allow myself to be too long, for a sparkling needs my care.”

Bulkhead nodded. “Is that what draws you to Misty Marsh, Sister?”

“Yes,” the Femme answered, readjusting her veil so it hide her face. “Poor Treasher’s Bonded passed away four vorns ago, in an unfortunate incident. He’s a good mech, he really is, but it is hard for him to take care of little Rockcrusher alone. I go to see them everyday in order to prepare their meals and clean the house,” she explained.

“It is to your honor, Sister,” Bulkhead nodded gravely. “Please, transmit them our wishes.” Sentinel mumbled. “Uh, yes; do transmit them our wishes.”

“I’ll do, be assured,” the priestess nodded. “Farewell, Goodmech Bulkhead, Goodwife Sentinel.” And with that, she walked away on the dirt path, her robe slightly raised as to not dirty the hem. Sentinel looked at her go for a moment. Could she be a Decepticon double-agent? Purple optics were a rare color, seen far-in-between in Autobots on Cybertron… though it was more common on other planets of the Commonwealth. That said, on pretense of taking care of a widower’s sparkling, who knew what she could do? After all, nobody would suspect a Priest or a Priestess who went back and forth between the Temple and a farm…and could easily change directions and slip messages.

He shook his head. Was he being too cautious? Priests were usually considered as above suspicion… like high ranked Autobots; and look who Longarm Prime had turned out to be! Yes, he would definitely keep an optic on her too, he mused as he walked in the house. his servos tightened around the box and he reminded himself he had more important things to do right now. Like, getting some of his dignity back.

With deft fingers, he opened the box and his mouth dropped in shock. It wasn’t his panel!

“Bulkhead!” he called out loudly. The green mech looked at him, startled. “What is that? Where is my panel?!”

Bulkhead blinked stupidly for a while. “Your panel?”

“My valve cover,” Sentinel hissed. “I was lead to believe I would get it back today, and that it would be a Temple mech who would deliver it back! So what is that?!” he asked, picking up the box’s content to show it to Bulkhead.

It was a ring. Or rather, two rings, once slightly larger than and definitely thicker than the first. They were made of a bluish metal -- a shade or two lighter than Sentinel’s own paint -- and carved with glyphs on the outer edge. Bulkhead looked at them then at Sentinel, puzzled.

“Uh, well… that’s your panel,” he said, as if it was obvious.

Sentinel seethed. “That,” he said, hissing, “is definitely not a panel! What the Pit are these rings?!”

Bulkhead blinked. “Well, they’re our Bonding rings. They symbolize our union. They’re always forged with the panel of the Endura, melted down with some transfluid from the Conjunx and crystals and…” he continued to list a few more elements, but Sentinel wasn’t listening anymore. He just stared dumbly at the two rings in his hand.

Surely, it was a joke? They hadn’t really melted down his valve cover… had they? “Why?” he managed to get out in a choked voice.

The green mech shuffled. “Ah, uh… it’s… traditional? Since a Endura now wear the dress, proper to his station, he or she doesn’t need his panel anymore. It also… uh…” he trailed off. He wanted to say ‘allow their Conjunx to take them more easily and swiftly, but he doubted very much that Sentinel would have liked to learn that. Though he should have had already know it before they came here. “Sentinel? Did they not tell you that during debriefing?” he asked carefully to the shocked Prime, who had let himself fall on a chair in the kitchen, optics and face blank.

“... they skipped this part,” Sentinel managed after a while, in a dull tone. His optics were still blank and he seemed to stare at nothing in particular. Bulkhead shuffled nervously.

He had the feeling -- scratch that, he had the outright conviction -- that whoever had been in charge of debriefing had skipped a lot of parts and details. Primus, he knew he should have been the one to inform Sentinel of all the… particularities one could find in a farmer community. Especially given Sentinel rather… ‘shy’ demeanour about a lot of things. Oh, who was he kidding? Shy didn’t even start to cover it!

Perhaps it was why nobody had deemed it necessary for him to know: because he knew he would be reluctant or would have opted out of the mission. Which, Bulkhead knew, would have been bad, as there was no one else they could have spared and send instead. Now, Sentinel couldn’t opt out anymore. He was struck here… and Bulkhead was struck with him.

Which… wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Sentinel wasn’t a very pleasant mech, but Bulkhead was more patient than people thought, and he could deal with it. He thought. And besides… for all his grumpiness and unwillingness to acknowledge when he was wrong, Sentinel had good redeeming qualities… Behind his panel, his spike gave a throb as he thought back of the tight port he had enjoyed the previous day-cycle. He wouldn’t mind doing it again… for cover’s sake, of course. And perhaps, just perhaps because he had enjoyed it. Occasions to repeat the experience would arise, he knew. Though Sentinel didn’t seem to realize it, and probably would be even more grumpy about them.

Ooooh, yes. Given his general disposition about interfacing, he couldn’t see how the Prime would be happy with a typical farmer’s life.

Bulkhead hesitated, he really hesitated to speak of it with him. On one hand, Sentinel needed to know, if only to brace himself better for some events. On the other, Bulkhead was a convenient target for his ire should he be told the crude, naked truth. Nevermind the fact it was Sentinel himself who had claimed that Intelligence would give him all necessary infos and he didn’t need Bulkhead’s help and advices on how to better prepare himself. Sentinel wasn’t always known for his sound logic. And High Command or Intelligence weren’t known for playing by the rules or always being truthful about some things.

So… he hesitated and opted to stay silent for now, at least until Sentinel himself came to ask him. if he didn’t, then they’d dealt with whatever would come when it’d come. Sure, Bulkhead would probably have to do lot of damage controls, but he was used to it. And well, Sentinel’s status as ‘citybot’ would be easy to use to counter most of his missteps. If he acted correctly for the rest -- if he continued to docilely take cooking and sewing lessons, for example --, then they could pull it off.

Musing about it, Bulkhead sat at the table, in front of Sentinel. The Prime had still a vacant expression, and seemed not to see him.

Coughing, Bulkhead tried to gather his attention, pulling the dish offered by Pollen on the table between them. “So, uh… Aurum-Apples pie?” he asked helpfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
>  
> 
> • On Sparklings: Farmers don’t believe in contraception. It’s a sin for them. Getting an abortion is an even bigger sin -- except if it’s proven by medics and by priests that the Carrier’s life is threatened. As such, they tend to have very large families, with at least five or six children on average. Children are taught how to read/write/count by a Schoolmaster or, if there isn’t any, by the local Priests (as Primus’ Blessing is a ‘recent’ community and a rather small one, there is no Schoolmaster, so it’s the priests who take care of the teaching). A couple is considered most blessed if he manages to produce thirteen sparklings (reference to the first Thirteen created by Primus), but fews manage to.
> 
> • On clothes:  
> o Enduras must always wear a dress to cover themselves, if only to hid their bare valves. They usually also wear crotchless underwears as additional cover, other kinds of undergarnement are also common, but less used. It is most shocking to see an Endura without any clothes on, though it can happen while they work in the fields if they have an useful altmod for farming. Conjunx often carry protable windscreen in subspace so their wives can hide behind and put their clothes back on should another farmer or a visitor comes by. Hats or capes might be required in some situations.  
> o Conjunx usually don’t wear clothes, aside of bib-and-brace overalls in some situation, like when they have to kneel a lot in the fields, to avoid getting too dirty (lots of farms don’t have real washracks, so cleaning takes time). There’re some farmers who always wore overalls, but they’re rare; usually, they maintain their interface array bare underneath so they don’t have to go through the trouble of opening and closing their panels each time they want to take their wives. In the end, it’s all about personal preferences and also commodity with altmodes.  
> o Priests and priestesses wear simple robes, with specific trimming according to their rank in Primus’ church. Priestesses also wear a veil.  
> o Weavers always wear capes or cloaks made from their personal production, so that their clients might see what they’re able to to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visit while they're working in the fields leads Bulkhead to take a decision Sentinel doesn't approve of. Oh, and an invitation is given. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More interfacing; Sentinel isn't happy. ;)

_:: Is everything alright Sentinel?::_

The Prime, currently in his plow altmode, grunted an answer. ::Fine. Just… peachy.:: Despite that, he kept muttering things as he worked. ::I can’t wait to be finished so I can clean up.:: he groused unhappily.

Bulkhead shrugged and looked over at the field. Sentinel wasn’t doing a bad job at plowing the field, for sure. Sure, he was lacking finesse, and the dirt and earth flew everywhere, but Bulkhead could easily make furrows now that the field itself was prepared. Then he would plant his first seeds… It brought a small smile to his face. He hadn’t actually done that since he was a… younger mech, and he had missed it. The odor of freshly plowed earth, the feeling of it between his claws,... He sighed happily.

_::And how are things going over your side?::_ Sentinel send over the comm. line.

Bulkhead looked over at the small radar he was installing. _::Equally fine; I should be finished in a couple of joors._ :: Sentinel send a ping of acknowledgement and continued muttering his disapprobation at having to be the one to plow the field. He should have been the one to install the radar and surveillance devices, he had claimed. Except, he didn’t actually know how to program them to reach maximum capacity. Bulkhead, however, knew. After stellar-cycles at working on Space Bridges, he had become good with all kinds of machines and their calibrations. So Sentinel went to do the grunt work, and Bulkhead started to install the material.

Beside, for any casual observer, it would have made sense. With a plow for altmode, Sentinel was better suited for preparing the fields -- even though it usually was a Conjunx’s work. Sentinel was showing he was a good Endura once again by simply using one of his natural advantage; how lucky it was the Prime hadn’t chose to retake his normal Cybertronian altmode, he mused as he connected two cables. If anyone really looked, they would simply see a couple at work, the one best suited for it plowing while the other prepared what could pass from afar as a farm appliance; a sprinkler or a furrower to complete his mate work.

Shaking his head, he looked at his work. Hmm… it would be enough, he decided. Sure, he could calibrate it for a even more refined signal, but it would be a loss of time. This one signal tracker was to be placed at the very edge of the town, with a couple of others which he had already gone through. He had already chosen good hiding place for them. The better ones, which he held ready, would be placed in an efficient pattern all across their fields. For safety sake, he had worked over giving them the appearance of sprinklers. In truth, they would be hidden among them, at random pattern, so if someone noticed one of them wasn’t working and advised Bulkhead or Sentinel, they would be able to easily swap it with a working one. Hopefully, it would work easily; failing agricultural systems weren’t rare, after all.

The biggest difficulty had been to draw a placement map as to make sure they could and would capt as many signals as they could, no matter where they were placed, but Bulkhead had managed it without much problems after some careful calculation. The biggest difficulty had been to convince Sentinel he was right. The Prime, still fuming over the whole ‘panel affair’, had been particularly snarky these last two solar-cycles. Thankfully, Bulkhead had managed to convince him, but the resulting headache it had gotten him had lasted all night-cycle.

The green mech felt thankful that now, at least, the Prime kept his unhappy muttering to himself.

_::There,::_ Sentinel called out. _::It’s over. I’m heading back toward your position. Prepare the folding screen, would you?::_

_::Acknowledged,::_ Bulkhead send, but Sentinel didn’t dignify him with an answer as he headed his way at great speed. The green mech sighed, closed the metal panel hiding the inner working of the last signal tracker he was working on, and rose. Calmly, he took out of subspace the folding screen they had received as a Bonding gift. Sentinel was starting to really appreciate it, Bulkhead was sure.

After the whole ‘panel thing’ had sunk in, and considering he had to transform to help on the farm but that, for doing so, he would need to get the dress and panties off, thus revealing his bare valve to the world, the Prime had started having… well, it was not a nervous breakdown. But he had been so incensed he had actually screamed at Bulkhead for almost a megacycle before calming down some, letting Bulkhead finally explain to him he had a way to save his modesty. Thus Sentinel’s new, small liking of folding screens came about.

Folding screens had been created especially for the purpose of hiding an Endura’s body from lustful looks. Well, technically. Normally, Enduras weren’t shy about showing themselves to their Conjunx, like Sentinel was with Bulkhead, but to let someone else see their most intimate parts, outside of Festivals?... Ok, it wasn’t completely true; people could get a glimpse in other occasions too, but they were proper ones… kinda. And it wasn’t like everybody saw their whole body at once when they did. Anyway, to be surprised in altmode in the fields without a possibility to discreetly change back and put their clothes back on wasn’t very appreciated, and very embarrassing. One didn’t just talk with a visitor while in altmode, it wasn’t proper. But a proper Endura didn’t let other mechs see what belonged only to his Conjunx.

Carrying around a folding screen in subspace solved some of the problem. An Endura just had to hide behind, quickly transform and put his dress back on before leaving the cover of the screen to politely greet the newcomer.

A good tool to sate Sentinel’s unwillingness to even let Bulkhead look at him. The green mech felt a pang of regret at that. He wouldn’t have minded looking more at Sentinel’s valve. And more than looking, too, he thought as the other mech stopped before him. Sentinel’s plating was covered in dirt and clods of earth. It would take a good scrubbing to get everything out, Bulkhead noted distractedly. Hum, perhaps he could offer to lend a hand? Or, even better: he had a couple of rags and a sponge in subspace, he could offer to lend them. Perhaps Sentinel would be pleased with him if he did?

_::So? You’re getting the screen out or what?::_ the Prime groused.

“Ah, yes, yes,” the green mech startled. Quickly, he unfolded the different panels composing the screen, and started to deploy them around Sentinel, in an half-circle. “Will that be alright for you?”

_::Sufficient,::_ Sentinel said as he transformed. He stretched loudly and groaned. “Ugh! Is it always so dirtying?” he said as he looked at his stained body in disgust.

Bulkhead blinked. “Well, yeah.”

Sentinel’s groaned as he facepalmed. Bulkhead stood dutifully on the other side of the screen and as such, could only see the Prime from the neck up. He tried not to fidget too much as it made him think of what was hidden being, Sentinel’s body, ready for the taking if only the Prime was willing… His valve, which had felt so tight… His Spark, which had felt so hot and wonderful against his, so full of warmth and deeply buried care (very, very deeply buried under pride and will and visceral need to just be the best) -- and given his former Drill Sergeant’s general mood, it had been quite the surprise to feel and experiment… His spike, which Bulkhead didn’t think much about, but would have had no qualm to please it if it softened Sentinel a bit around the edges. Why, it would be so heavenly to pin him down… kiss him… reach and touch… Oh, frag, he thought as he felt his spike hardening behind his panel.

Quickly, he looked away. He wasn’t in love with Sentinel, but he had to admit he had a nice body, and that living in close quarters with him, especially at night, recharging in the same berth, just might arouse him a little… Even if the Prime was loud, brash and generally insensitive or totally missing a point.

Like he was now, for example.

“... got dirt in place I didn’t even know I had! How the Pit could that happen? And do you really expect me to clean up decently without a proper washrack? That tub at home is barely good for a quick soak! I can’t believe there isn’t anything better in that backwater home you call a farm! And nobody even sell good quality solvent around! And I’d know, I’ve asked Doctor Counterstep the other day! You’ve got to go to Riverbend to pick soap! What kind of place is that?!”

Bulkhead refrained himself to sigh. Okay, so perhaps the unique tub in the bathroom without pressurized jets of water was a bit old, but it was functional and actually pretty soothing to use, if one filled it with water at the right temperature. Most farmhouses Bulkhead knew didn’t have anything better. The typical washracks one saw on Cybertron were just too expensive for some families, or necessitated too many renovations of the house and the inner plumbing to be easily installed. Besides, wasn’t it more romantic to just take a long bath together? Bulkhead remembered how his own creators used to disappear for megacycles in the bathroom of their own farm…

Shaking his head he got the sponge and rags he had kept out of subspace. “Here,” he said, handing them to Sentinel over the folding screen.

“... Thanks,” Sentinel said reluctantly, grabbing the offered objects. “Seriously, I’m never doing this again! That kind of work is beneath me!” he added as he started scrubbing himself to make the grim go away.

Bulkhead nodded dutifully, though he knew it was highly improbable. An Endura, even a fake like Sentinel was for the sake of the mission, had a duty to help as much as he or she could around the farm, even if his/her primary duties were to take care of the household and the sparklings. Since they didn’t have any sparkling, it was only logical and expected Sentinel helped him more in the fields.

He kept throwing little glances at Sentinel and moved a bit, discreetly. Just enough that he could, perhaps, catch a glance of the blue mech cleaning himself if he tilted his head just right. Yup. It gave him a good look of Sentinel’s aft as he bend over to scrub his legs. Hmm, nice. Turning his head away once more, trying to clear his mind and not think too much about that aft, he scanned the fields around him.

Neither of them had slacked in their work; they had already prepared three of the large fields surrounding the farm. Only… seven more to go, and Bulkhead was still debating what to seed them with. Plumbun-kin were usually a sure bet, but Wire-Wheat or Oxide-Oats were easier to come with and cheaper. Of course, he had received a large sack of Plasma-Peas and another of Beryl-Beans as a bonding gift, so he would be better off using them first, since he had already seeded the Cryo-Carrots and Photon-Potatoes. Only, shouldn’t he prepare a field of metalloflowers for bouquets and Hydrogen-Honey? It would have some sweet to their eventual harvest, provided he could arrange himself with the local Hydrogen-Honey productors. Hmm, perhaps he would be better off asking some pointers to the other farmers. Why, Quarterstaff was just at the edge of his vision, walking toward them, perhaps he could ask… him… directly…

Oh frag!

They were going to have company!

He jerked back and almost flailed in panic. As it was, he brushed against the folding screen, almost knocking it down, which made Sentinel stand up in ire.

“Can you oaf stand further away and, better yet, stop being a nuisance!”

“But Sentinel…!”

“Away, I said!” the Prime grunted and turned back to his cleaning, not even noticing the mech in the distance who had passed the fence and was walking in their direction.

Bulkhead tried to make his jaw work. Sentinel didn’t understand! They were receiving a visit! He was ‘naked’ in a field! Sentinel wouldn’t have time to pull and straighten his dress correctly before Quarterstaff was on them! Which was bad! Bad in the sense 'hey, why aren't you too fragging?'!

Newly Bonded -- and any farmers, really -- didn’t waste these kinds of occasions! Farm work was so hard they took relief whenever they could! They interfaced whenever they could! That meant, between two works! The folding screen was up, which meant an Endura was nearby, without his dress! Which meant he was readying for interfacing! Of course, they could pretend they had just finished interfacing already, but would it work without transfluid and lubricant traces to show they had just done it? Worse, even, and something that might make people frown: new couples were known for being even more amorous than others! They didn’t shy at each other body -- no Endura shyed away from being looked over by his/her Conjunx! It was... it just wasn't done; why would a loving couple try to hide anything from each other, really? Which meant, the screen had to be up because Sentinel had either noticed they were having a visit and acted accordingly to cover himself before greeting -- and since the Prime had not noticed and would probably startle, it wasn’t credible, for Sentinel was a bad actor when he was caught unprepared -- or they were about to interface or were interfacing already! And if they weren't... if they were intending to go back to work immediately... would Steelflail want to help them? It wasn't uncommon for neighbors to give a helpful hand to new couples settling in. But if he did, then he would notice there was something amiss in their tools and ask questions!

He gave a panicked look at the approaching Steelflail -- who was still far enough that he couldn’t get a good look at them -- then at Sentinel.

He knew what he had to do.

The Prime wasn’t going to be happy with it, but it was to keep the cover more credible.

“Sentinel, I’m sorry, but this is for the mission!”

Swiftly, he walked to the other side of the screen, stopped behind Sentinel and gave him a good push just as he released his spike. The Prime fell to his hands and knees with a yelp.

“Bulkhead! What do you think you mmmppph?!”

The large green mech showed a hand against Sentinel’s mouth to muffle his cry of protest -- they couldn’t risk for Steelflail to hear, and Sentinel was loud! -- as he moved in position and knelt behind him, his spike already aligning with his bare valve. Frag, Sentinel was barely lubricated -- the fact of being bare encouraged Enduras to produce some lubricant in permanence, which helped when their Conjunx sought to take them whenever they felt like -- and Bulkhead showed his free hand against the valve’s rim, rubbing his hands against it in long, powerful stroke. It would have been better to finger the tight little valve to spread it, but his claws were ill-adapted for that, and he didn’t want to hurt the Prime. He should try and see if he couldn’t get a new mod… something that could give him smaller fingers to use on a lover…

Thankfully, his rushed attempts at arousing the Prime seemed to work, and he felt a drop of lubricant slide along his hand. Sentinel kept thrashing -- or trying to anyway -- and shouting muffled things but the hold Bulkhead had around his face didn’t allow him to really free himself. His hands grasped the earth, leaving deep marks in the ground.

Well, the Prime might not be as well lubricated as he would have liked, but it was an urgence, so it could be excused. He would allow Sentinel to scream at him as much as he wanted later. For now, it was time to frag.

Deftly, he removed his hand, stopping his rough caresses on the valve’s rim, and started to guide his spike so the tip pressed neatly against the tight opening. Sentinel made more muffled sounds and started to kick. Bulkhead let go of the Prime’s head to grasp his thighs and move them further apart, almost making the Prime fall face down in the dirt.

“What’s the meaning of thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!” he shouted just as the tip of Bulkhead large spike started to slide in the folds of his valve. Bulkhead drove it in a bit faster than the previous times, counting on Sentinel’s port to be still partially stretched. He was, thankfully, proved right, and even with the low level of proper lubrication, he slide in all the way very easily, Sentinel panting and howling beneath him.

“Get… ggg… get… theeee… f… frag… off!” he groaned and panted as Bulkhead started to move inside him. “Ah… aaah…” His valve kept squeezing around the thick length working in and out of him at a steady if rapid pace.

“Aaah… uh… oooh… oooooooooooh!” he moaned just as Bulkhead’s spike hit a couple of sensors nodes he didn’t know he had, deep in his valve. The green mech grunted and continued driving his spike in and out at a fastening pace, as Sentinel’s frame started to shake and heat with the pleasure he felt.

“That’s right, Sentinel; moan for me,” Bulkhead encourage him as his grip on Sentinel shifted so he could steady the blue mech’s hips. Unconsciously, the Prime spread his legs even wider now that Bulkhead wasn’t holding them anymore.

“Uuuh… mmmm… B… Bulk… head,” he choked out as the pounding in his valve intensified. It made Bulkhead’s Spark swell in pride, to hear the proud Prime cry his name like that, in rapture, as he received a good pounding, valve stretched wide and still tight around his spike.

With a grunt, Bulkhead overloaded, spilling his fluids deep inside Sentinel. The rush of hot, sticky liquid made the Prime keen just as he overloaded as well at the unexpected sensation. Both mechs fell down, Sentinel pinned face down in the dirt with Bulkhead’s spike still in him. They didn’t stay like that long.

Sentinel seemed to recover the first from his overload, and immediately tried to shift and move and roll away, only to wince and moan as he felt Bulkhead’s spike still inside him.

“Get off! Get off you…!” he hissed.

“Oh. Am I interrupting something?” a polite voice enquired, though there was a touch of fond amusement in the words.

Sentinel stilled completely, optics wide in horror and shock. Bulkhead slide out of his pretended Endura’s port slowly, letting the fluids rush out of the opening as he did so, rose to his feet while tugging his spike back in its housing and turned toward their visitor. He didn’t care much for the strains of transfluid running down his thighs; they were, after all, to be worn with pride, since he had only done something which was both perfectly natural in a mech and in Primus’ optics.

“Goodmech Steelflail! What a pleasant surprise!”

“Goodmech Bulkhead,” the newcomer said with a nod. “I see you weren’t losing your time,” he said with a smirk as Sentinel scrambled back and run to hide on the other side of the screen. Steelflail raised an optic ridge and chuckled benignly. “Shy little thing, isn’t he?”

Bulkhead chuckled nervously. “Just a bit. And well, you know how things are; you work, you work you work, and sometimes, you just want a break…”

“And how to make it more pleasant than to enjoy it with the body of your mate nestled against yours, as his valve clench over your spike,” Steelflail completed. “It is fine. It’s nice to know things are going well between you and that you can take time for yourselves. Speaking of, Goodmech Bulkhead, Goodwife Sentinel, I’m here on the behalf of my Endura.”

“Is that so?” Bulkhead asked politely as he glanced at Sentinel, or tried to. The Prime had crouched behind the screen and was, from the ruffle of fabric, trying to put his dress back on right.

“Yes. We would be delighted if you could join us for a snack, in three solar-cycles, after the Mass. Other couples will be present,” he indicated helpfully. “It would be a nice occasion for you to meet some of your fellow farmers; I understand you weren’t able to see everybody yet?” he asked politely.

Bulkhead rubbed his head. “Well, it’s less that I didn’t have a chance to get properly introduced yet than not having met them. I’m most humbled and delighted by your invitation. You can count on Sentinel and I to join you in…” he trailed off, unsure.

“Serene Meadows,” the other mech smiled proudly. “It’s the first property next to the Temple. A damn fine one, I’ll let you know. Been in my family for generations. We produce the best mechanicrops in all Primus’ Blessing,” he said fiercely, chest puffing.

“How wonderful! Perhaps you’ll be able to give me pointers, then? As much as I’m familiar with the care of mechanicrops, there’s something about the earth here and some of the varieties I’m most puzzled with, and I wouldn’t want to make a mistake.”

“That’s perfectly alright, lad,” the darkly colored mech said cheerfully. “I’ll be happy to let you learn from my experience. Why, I’d even start now, if I wasn’t forced to leave already.”

Bulkhead’s shoulder sagged a bit. “Oh, already?” In truth, he’d rather wanted the mech to leave quickly now. Sentinel was back to his feet, with his dress back on, and was staring at him from over the folding screen, and if his optics didn’t quite promise murder yet, he knew the Prime was about to lose it and jump at him.

“Sadly so, my fellow Goodmech. Still got a couple of invitations to give and answers to get. Then I’ll have the electrosheeps to gather and sent back to the barn.”

“Well, we thank you deeply for your visit and your invitation, Goodmech Steelflail. Please, transmit our wishes to your lovely Endura,” he said, bowing. Sentinel grunted.

Steelflail laughed and went on the other side of the screen, bowed down before Sentinel and caught his hand, that he kissed softly. “It was my pleasure, really. And I’m glad to have witnessed first hand the beauty of your own lovely Endura.” He winked at Sentinel, letting the 'couple' know he had witnessed a fair bit of their lovemaking, and he had approved.

Sentinel paled and flushed, and he almost jerked his hand back. Thankfully, Steelflail let it go before it came to that. With a last bow and a few more polite goodbyes, he was gone, humming merrily on his way.

They watched him disappear in the horizon before Sentinel turned slowly toward Bulkhead. His face was devoid of emotion, but his optics were almost white.

“You knew he was coming.”

“I saw him approaching, I didn’t have time to tell you,” Bulkhead said quickly, trying to excuse himself.

Sentinel raised a hand. “You saw him coming. And you fragged me. You fragging fragged me!!!!”

Bulkhead tried to not take a step back. “It was necessary!”

“How was fragging me necessary?!” Sentinel shouted.

“Because it was what was he would have expected to see!” Bulkhead shouted back. “Think about it: had he not be more interested by us fragging, had we been working for example, he might have wanted to help or get a closer look at what we were doing! Did you want him to really get a look at our material?!”

“You should have tell me he was coming anyway!” Sentinel cried out. “I could have put on this stupid dress before he saw my…” he gestured to his valve, which was still dripping with Bulkhead’s transfluid underneath the dress.

“I tried to tell you! You didn’t even try to hear me out! I had to think fast and improvise!”

“You still didn’t need to frag me!”

“We’re supposed to be Conjunx and Endura! Of course we need to frag!... Or pretend to,” he added quickly. “Slag it, Sentinel, you never saw couples getting frisky before?”

“Yes I did,” the Prime retorted, “and they never fragged where someone could catch them!”

“Well, we aren’t on Cybertron!” Bulkhead shouted.

“Clearly not!” Sentinel shouted back.

Both looked at each other, optics locked and hard, frame running hot and venting.

Bulkhead took a deep inspiration. “I’m sorry it came out of the blue. I hadn’t thought we’d have a visit from someone so soon, or I would have thought of a better plan ahead. But I’m not sorry of what I did if it allows us to stay true to our roles.”

Sentinel gritted his teeth but didn’t shout back. “... I don’t want things like that to repeat, is that clear, soldier?”

“Very clear, Sir,” Bulkhead answered. “... Did I hurt you?” he asked softly.

Sentinel looked startled for a breem. “... Not really. It aches a bit, but nothing worse than the other day,” he shrugged.

“That’s… good,” Bulkhead said with a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to hurt Sentinel… even if the mech really, really needed someone to sort him out.

They stayed silent for a moment. Bulkhead looked over the field, then back at Sentinel.

“So… how about we install those ‘sprinklers’ now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
> • On Transforming: Now, farmers have an healthy respect for altmods; without them, their work would be harder. Still, one altmod must only be used in the fields, or in special cases, such as getting help in case of an emergency. To handle most deplacements, farmers actually use Zap-Ponies/Zap-Horses and carriages/horse cars. It also help them save on energy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulkhead and Sentinel answer an invitation, and Sentinel gets his biggest shock (yet). A gathering of both Conjunx and Enduras has little to do with what he was used to so far, after all...

If Primus indeed existed, Sentinel mused, then he was definitely trying his patience. There was really no other explanations for some of the stuff Sentinel had to live through.

Going to listen to Father Spica’s sermon had been bothersome to say the least, and some of the things the Priest had told them were sitting heavily on his CPU. There were a lot of sentences pointing out the ‘duties of good Endura’, who was to be faithful at his or her Conjunx’ side, the first and foremost of those ‘duties’ being to ‘please him in any way necessary’, and how ‘Primus rejoiced as he watched them love each other’. The Priest also reminded Conjunx of their own ‘duties’, which Sentinel more or less understood as honor and protect their Bonded. Well, the Priest had used the word ‘cover’, but the idea of protection was here, Sentinel thought. Of course, he only had half-listened, too busy watching every person who had come to the Temple and mentally listing those he knew and those he was unfamiliar with.

Primus’ Blessing counted barely more than a dozen of Bonded couples -- well, seventeen in all --, plus a single unbonded mech, a widower and the famous weaver Spindle, who Sentinel had yet to catch a glimpse of. Almost all of these couples had more than three or four sparklings -- exceptions being Lifespring and Rookwall and Groundsplint and Roller, who only had two each… and Threasher, of course, who only had the one. Though he ought to add Mayor Levitacus’ second Endura, Safepath, to the list, for the mech had only two of his own too.

One would be hard pressed to think one of these mechs could be a traitor or a Decepticon spy, since they just seemed to be average mechs. But Sentinel couldn’t help but all find them suspicious in some way. Perhaps it was paranoia, but Pit! Take Lifespring or Counterstep: their jobs as veterinary physician and medic allowed them to move anywhere they wanted without raising suspicion. Spindle the weaver was going back and forth to Riverbend and other villages -- the perfect way to transmit infos to secret contacts! Who knew if Threasher the widower hadn’t been offered money to be on the look out, if raising alone his creations was too hard for him? There was a mech who wasn’t Bonded in town, a farmer by the name of Claymate; given how big on Bonding and raising a family energon farmers were, it was highly suspicious. Groundsplint and Roller were apparently new additions to the town themselves, who had only came by six to ten orns ago, from what Sentinel had learned over another cooking session the day before -- they had made treats for this afternoon-cycle assembly -- and it wasn’t clear where they came from. They could be sleeper agents for all the Prime knew! And then there was the mech Shimmersun, who was apparently living alone with his sparklings since his Conjunx had left for an undefined apprenticeship. Eck, the mech could have been taken hostage to force his Endura to transmit intel or harbor Decepticon agents! Even some of the oldest younglings weren’t above suspicion! The young mechs could have been lured to the other side with false promises!

No, there definitely wasn’t anyone Sentinel place above suspicion. Except perhaps Tidalwave, who had been residing in the town for so long and seemed so slow he didn’t seem like a threat. His Endura, Moonshift, however, was pretty much at the top of Sentinel’s suspects.

And it had nothing to do with the fact he had met him yesterday during the cooking lessons, and that the older mech had criticized almost all Sentinel had done. Nope. Nothing to do at all. So what if he had slightly burnt the Copper-Cookies he had been taught to make? And what if they weren’t perfectly round and appetizing? They were still perfectly edible! Beside, it was the first time he tried, give him a break!

Honestly, he could have done without the social gathering of this after-cycle. He just wanted to go back to the farm and start compiling whatever infos he had already gathered on each member of the community. Sadly, Bulkhead had said they’d come, and they had to. Well, if anything, it was the first time they’d meet with other couples in a relaxed, indoor setting, so it was bound to be fruitful… he hoped.

Still, he wondered why Bulkhead had insisted Sentinel should tell him in advance the questions he would have have liked to ask. The green mech had mumbled it was Conjunx who filled the conversations while the Enduras were otherwise busy. It really annoyed the Prime, that way the Conjunx always seemed to be the one who had the last word and the more authority in the couple, but he could hardly change anything to that. So long Bulkhead remembered who was the Boss behind closed doors, then Sentinel could live with it.

Steeling himself as they joined with other couples, the Prime put on a endearing smile as he leaned a bit against Bulkhead’s arm. With one hand, he was raising the hem of his dress so he wouldn’t fall on the three steps leading to the house. Today, he had put on a white dress with metalloflowers patterns, and Bulkhead had insisted he put little bows over his helmstacks, as to look more… cute. Yeah, right. Sentinel wasn’t cute; he was handsome! He had been against the bows at first, then it had become obvious some kind of decoration was expected from the Enduras when they went to Mass. So he had to comply, grumbling all the way as he put them on.

Really, the bows thing made him think the day hadn’t started under the better auspices, but the Prime sincerely thought it couldn’t get worse. They were just going to enjoy oil and homemade treats with their ‘neighbors’. What could go wrong?

“Thank you for having us over,” Bulkhead said with a bow as they entered Serene Meadows. “We’re grateful for your invitation.” Furrow’s, the Endura of Steelflail, bowed in turn with a large smile.

“Oh, but it’s us who are grateful you accepted to come!” he laughed merrily. He quickly hugged Sentinel -- what was it here with hugs to people you barely knew? He mustn’t have exchanged ten words with Furrow until now -- and stood back. “Please, come in, come in! We’re only waiting for Auger and Mistcover and we’ll all be here.”

“Is everyone coming?” Sentinel inquired politely as he walked beside Bulkhead.

Furrow shook his head regretfully. “Sadly, Brimstone and Shock will not join us; their youngest was feeling ill, and they opted to stay with him. As Counterstep was scheduled to visit him today, he and Sterling will also be missing. Mayor Levitacus had important business to attend, and Yoke and Safepath wouldn’t come without him. Threasher and Claymate had too much work already, Lifespring is overseeing a ChronoCow’s calf birth with Rookwall, and Baler and Scythe should have come but canceled at the last moment. It seems a Wild IronBoar managed to get past their fence, and they’re tracking it down.” His optics had narrowed a bit as he spoke of the last couple, and Sentinel took note. Was the mech suspecting it was untrue? “Anyway,” the mech continued with a large smile, “their absence shouldn’t stop us from having a good moment. Please, go ahead, everybody is waiting for you.”

The two Autobots moved along, joining the living room. It was a bigger room than in Shady Acres, Sentinel noticed, with more couches and chairs. Curiously, only the Conjunx half of each couple was sitting down, the Enduras all stood near their respective Bonded. Only Apis, the lithe yellow and black Femme, and Pollen were sitting, and it was on their Conjunx’ laps. Curious, Sentinel thought.

But perhaps they were only waiting to first bring the snacks they had prepared the previous solar-cycle. Yes, that might be it. Farmers seemed to be old fashioned like that, with the Conjunx being first served in about everything. As for Pollen and Apis, they were carrying, and heavily so, from what he could see. Apis’ abdomen seemed to bulge much more than Pollen’s under her dress. She must have been closer to the term of her gestation period than Pollen, he supposed.

Wordlessly, he let Bulkhead install himself in a large chair and joined the other Enduras, smiling thinly at them. They greeted him with little cries of enthusiasm and hugs -- again! Well, it was only Nightglow and Roller who did -- and they started to try and make him join their chat. Not that Sentinel tried to; he just listened, nodded and smiled as it was required, trying to see if there was something useful coming out.

Sadly, it didn’t seem so.

“It’s been a while since we last had a proper reunion,” Moonshift mused as he smoothed his frilly pinafore. Everyone nodded eagerly, commenting with ‘why, yes!’, ‘I missed it!’ and the likes.

Sentinel frowned. “But we had already had one the day before,” he pointed out. They didn’t have such a short memory, did they? Or had someone messed with their processors and memory files? Oh frag, what if the Decepticons were more numerous and organized than they had thought?

His comments elicited some giggles. “Oh, Sentinel dear, you silly mech,” Moonshift said, shaking his head, and Sentinel almost bristled. Who was he calling silly? Oh, he liked this mech less and less! “It’s a reunion involving our Conjunx, it’s different.”

Different? Different how, Sentinel wondered?

Nightglow gently chided the older and larger mech. “Moonshift, be nicer with Sentinel! It’s the first time he’s involved in one!”

Sentinel nodded. “Uh, yes. First time I’m coming here with Bulkhead… and so many couples at once. So what’s different, exactly?” he asked Nightglow, knowing the mech was straightforward and truthful.

The other Endura smiled. “Why, but it allows you to pass more time with your Conjunx, just like Primus would wish so!”

Oh. Well, if it was just to chat with everybody at once and spend some time with his ‘Bonded’, it couldn’t be so bad. Sentinel nodded slowly as Mistcover finally joined them. There was more rejoicing and a few joors of small talks and welcomes before they were interrupted.

“Furrow? Beloved? Would you mind getting the snacks and the cubes so we can start?” Steelflail asked as he lounged comfortably in his seat. All the Conjunx were imitating him, though Cultivator and Huller, Apis and Pollen respective Bonded, were more busy nuzzling and kissing their Bondmates rather than relaxing.

Furrow nodded with a smile and enjoined his fellow Enduras to follow him in the kitchen area. Sentinel went suit and was entrusted with a plate of Beryl-Biscuits he carried with precaution to the other room, trying not to get his feet caught in the hem of his dress.

And almost dropped the plate anyway at the sight before him.

All the Conjunx present had their spikes out. Hard. Erected. Legs parted, they were displaying a part of their anatomy Sentinel could have done without EVER seeing. Even Bulkhead had his out! Pollen and Apis’ own Conjunx had slide their hands under their skirts, and from the small, pleased moans they were making, there was no mistaking what they were doing.

The plate almost slipped out his hands as his jaw felt slack from shock and his body grew numb. Thankfully, someone -- he didn’t care who at this moment -- managed to catch it.

“Sentinel? You’re alright dear?”

The Prime’s jaw worked, but his vocalizer stayed mute. With wide, unbelieving optics, he watched as Endura after Endura put their own plates of snacks or cubes of energon or oil on the low table standing in the middle of the couches and chairs circle, before kneeling resolutely before their respective Conjunx and wrap their hands around their spikes. The most daring or quickest ones were already taking them in their mouths, while their Conjunx sighed in pleasure as they grasped a Copper-Cookie or a slice of Proto-peaches tart they nibbled on as they caressed their Enduras’ helmets.

“Sentinel? Don’t just stand here, dear. Bulkhead is longing for your attention!”

The Prime finally managed to break a strangled and weak ‘whaaat?’ out as his hand was grabbed and he was lead to the circle and pushed before Bulkhead. The green mech looked at him with a sorry smile and was rubbing his helm nervously as he shifted a bit in his seat. His spike bobbled a bit in the air as he did so.

“Uh, beloved? Why don’t you come closer?”

Frozen, Sentinel just stood here as his processor tried to wrap itself around what was happening, and what people were suggesting he’d do. His audios had to be malfunctioning. His optical sensors, too, probably. It was a joke, right? Or a slagging nightmare? It wasn’t really happening, was it? A sharp cry of pleasure made him turn his head to the side, and he caught sight of Pollen, the back of his dress lifted as he sat in Huller’s laps, his back against the bigger’s mech front. Huller had his hands on his hips and was helping the carrying mech… bounce… on his lap. Or rather, on his spike, if the noises were to be of any indication. Not that they could see much, the dress hiding away most of the details.

“Really in a hurry today, aren’t you, Huller?” Groundsplint bantered easily as he stroked the helm of Roller, whose head was firmly lodged between his thighs. A sigh of pleasure escaped him. “Oh yes, just like that, Love…”

Huller had a shaky laugh as he made Pollen rise and fall down on his spike. “Well, perhaps a tad, but I was in the mood to give a transfluid donation to my sparkling.”

“And it is most kind of you, Beloved,” Pollen whined as he moved to impale himself on his Conjunx’s spike again and again.

“On the other end, your Endura doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, is he, Bulkhead?” Steelflail noted as everybody looked at Sentinel.

The Prime realized with a start that he was now the only one engaged in… explicit interfacing situations, and he swallowed dryly and shuffled nervously as all Conjunx present -- plus Apis and Pollen who could look at him, straddling their Bonded’s spikes as they did -- just stared at him curiously or expectantly.

Bulkhead laughed nervously as he reached and grabbed for Sentinel’s hands, pulling the Prime to him and making him straddle if lap. “Oh, Sentinel is just a bit… shy,” he said. “He isn’t used to do things like that… with a public. Citybots think it’s… shameful to share something so private,” he tried to explain as Sentinel looked at him with wide optics. Surely, Bulkhead wasn’t really expecting to do like the others? Surely not?

“I don’t see why they think so,” Quaterstaff said as he petted Tiller’s helm as the thinner mech worked his glossa smoothly over his length. “Primus created us as we are, there’s nothing we should have to hide.”

“Citybots,” Lancer shook her head sadly. “How can they show their love and spend time together if they don’t dare to publicly show their love?

Auger nodded. “I don’t see why he should be shy. It is perfectly obvious that Primus generously blessed you with a large, thick spike. Your Sentinel has nothing to blush in shame about. In the contrary, he should feel happy and rejoice to be able to take it so often.”

“It’s true,” Tidalwave, the very large mech who seemed to almost always stay silent spoke quietly, his Bonded Moonshift working his lips over his rod. “The way they shy away from all touches, one would think they don’t really love their other half.”

“Oh, quit it,” Farrier said, groaning as Nightglow worked him over. “Sentinel loves Bulkhead, he’s just hesitating.”

“A good Endura never hesitate,” Stillbarrel, another mech Sentinel had had no contact with until now, cut out. His Endura, Dewdrop, a pretty, lithe femme who probably had some kind of two-wheeled vehicle altmod, was at his knees, hands wrapped around his spike as she worked on the tip. “Sentinel might be new to our community, but he will never be a good Endura if he doesn’t perform his duties appropriately. What example is he setting for our own Bonded, I ask you?”

“I was of the impression,” Steamroller said in a quiet voice, between two moans, as his bondmate Rennet tried very hard to make him come, “that it was rather our Bonded who were giving him a good example as he tries to settle in. My Rennet had very positive things to say about him, didn’t you, my love?” he asked his bonded, who hummed despite his full mouth.

“Still,” Stillbarrel said, still disapproving, “he shouldn’t let Bulkhead neglected like he is. That’s bad manners.”

A couple of mechs nodded and gave Sentinel gazes of varying intensity, watching him eagerly, waiting for him to move.

Sentinel’s cheeks went red -- well, even redder than before. He had the feeling his fans and vents were going to broke as his body was slowly overheating. Frag, was that really happening? Were those people really thinking it was okay to interface in front of everyone? Were they really praising the size of Bulkhead’s… bit? And were they seriously saying he shouldn’t feel ashamed to frag, just because his lover was apparently well-hung? And that him not immediately falling to his knees to… service… Bulkhead was bad manners?!

If his CPU didn’t work itself in a loop right now, it was a slagging miracle.

One of Bulkhead’s hands slide under his dress and he yelped. “Bulkhead!” he shouted, getting some of his voice back. “What…?”

The green mech silenced him with a deep kiss. “I know you’re a bit hesitant on blowjobs, but we can start by having you ride my spike,” he said to the Prime as he lifted the dress a bit. “It isn’t exactly the proper process, but if you’re feeling too shy to use your mouth, we can work on it later. Would you like that?” he asked sweetly, his optics shining and flashing in Autobot optical code. Thankfully, Sentinel had taken the time to pick it up after someone he’d rather not think about and Jazz had proved how useful it could be. Funny, he didn’t think Bulkhead knew it too…

Anyway, his message was clear: ‘climb in my laps or kneel, I don’t really care which, but don’t just stand doing nothing! Cover must be kept!’

There was so much Sentinel felt was wrong about that statement he didn’t know where to begin. He was about to swear that cover could go frag itself, but his CPU caught with his glossa before he could say something he would regret. Sentinel hadn’t come so far to just give up now… or so he tried to tell himself.

If he blew up a gasket, if he stopped playing the role of a ‘good Endura’, if he accidentally revealed Bulkhead and him weren’t really a couple but a pair of undercover Autobot agents, then the mission would fail. A failure would be noted in his service files. He was already in hot oil with his superiors, who were only waiting on one wrong move on his part to have him fired from the Elite Guard -- and possibly all Autobots services altogether. Perhaps it was why they had send him on this particular mission, in truth. Because they thought and dearly hoped he would turn it into a blunder, and so they would have an official reason to reject him, which they couldn’t as of now -- Sentinel’s records were spotless, aside of… aside of Elita and Archa Seven, and even then, it was Optimus who really had a black mark, not him.

Well, they were in for a surprise, then, because Sentinel wasn’t about to just give up and please them! He would continue the mission, make sure it was fulfilled, even if he had to pursue the traitors and spies hiding in Primus’ Blessing to the Decepticon’ controlled space if he had to.

So what if it forced him to sacrifice some of his dignity? Nobody would know, aside of Bulkhead, and these backwater farmers who didn’t seem to follow news of any kind if they weren’t related to energon agricultural production.

Still… Sucking or getting pounded… What kind of choice was that?!

Ugh… he’d rather go with the sucking; he had no desire to get pawed at before all these people, who were watching him with a too keen interest.

He gave Bulkhead a shaky smile as he knelt. “A… Actually… Love… I, I think I’d better follow the traditions, right? Like any good Endura. I’m going to suck your spike for a bit, is it alright with you?” he asked in a sweet but shaking voice.

Bulkhead rumbled pleasantly, perfect image of the very pleased Conjunx. “Whatever you do is always perfectly alright for me, my Love,” he said with a kiss on Sentinel’s hand as the Prime finished settling down on his knees, face a few inches away from his massive spike.

Sentinel looked at his with dazed optics for a breem. Frag, it seemed so much bigger from close up! Was he really going to be able to fit all of it down his intakes? He really didn’t think so, but he didn’t think that voicing that aloud would earn him any pity or anything, really. He licked his lips nervously as he tried to determinate how to proceed. He had given a blowjob or two before, sure, but never on something so… huge. He glanced quickly to the side, catching sight of Moonshift who was still pleasuring his Conjunx with both hands wrapped around the larger mech’s spike.

Well, it was a way to start, he decided, and with a dry swallowing, he wrapped his hands around the base of Bulkhead’s spike. Carefully, he brought his head closer, and after a few breems of hesitation, prayers and silent struggle, he started to lick the tip of the huge rod. Bulkhead’s engine revved up. Slowly, the Prime let his glossa slide over the length, spreading oral fluids all over the top and down the underside. It was a good start, if one believed the whistles and pleased laughs he heard.

“Well, he might be a bit shy, but he’s putting his Spark in the work!””

“You’re a lucky one, Bulkhead!”

“It’s nice to see how much efforts he put into being a good Endura!”

Sentinel shuttered his optics and tried to turn everything off. If he concentrated on what he was doing, if he forgot where he was and with who, perhaps he could make it work reasonably well. His mouth formed a small ‘o’ and he started to really suck on the tip of the spike, only taking an inch and half in. His glossa kept rubbing the top of the length, and oral lubricant dripped slowly in long, thin trails over the whole length. Slowly, very slowly, he started to take another inch and half. His jaw dropped open bigger in order to really take in the length as it progressed, filling -- no, stuffing -- his mouth full. Frag, he hoped he wouldn’t get jaw aches when it would be over!

Bulkhead was panting and petting him as he worked. And still, it didn’t stop him from holding, of all things, a conversation on mechanicrops and munching on slices of Aurum-Apples crumble!

“It’s nice to see the two of you are settling in so well, Bulkhead. But is everything perfectly alright? I was lead to believe you had troubles with your crops…”

“Well, it isn’t as much trouble as me being hesitant. The ground here is of a different nature than on Moonbase II, and I must admit the variety of Plasma-Peas growing here is quite unfamiliar to me. I understand it is a fast growing one?”

“Why, yes; it’s one of the new genus discovered by Councilmember Botanica. Charming femme, isn’t she?... But yes, it is a fast working one, and resistant to most pests and plagues. However, the downside is that it needs to be watered more often than the regular brand.”

“Oh, it isn’t much of a problem for me; I have a good sprinkler system already ready to be used,” Bulkhead affirmed. “I’m mostly curious about…” And he started a lengthy conversation on mechanicrops and their various genus. Joy, Sentinel thought as he sucked readily on the spike filling his mouth. As if mechanicrops were important! Bulkhead should have focused on more interesting questions! But no, the green oaf had to talk about something as boring and unuseful!

As the discussion continued, more and more of the Conjunx started to overload in their pretty mates’ mouths. Some continued to work on their Bonded’s spikes with their glossa, intending on giving a second blowjob, while others were helped up and made to sit in waiting laps and straddle large or thin but sturdy spikes, on which they happily started to bounce while making a lot of pleased noises. Their Conjunx were quieter in terms of pleasure, though they moaned and whined and panted too, even as they spoke casually, as if they weren't fragging.

After what seemed to him like an eternity, Sentinel felt Bulkhead spike stiffen even more for a fraction of a breem. It was the only warning he had before thick fluid erupted in his mouth and slide down his intakes. Choking, he tried to move his head back, but Bulkhead chose this moment to hold his head down and immobile, forcing the Prime to just try and swallow as much of the transfluid as he could. Still, some of it escaped his mouth and started to drip down his chin. As he finished overloading, Bulkhead released his hold and allowed his spike to slid out. The Prime started to cough up, more drops of fluids raining down on his body and on the floor.

Some of the other Conjunx laughed approvingly.

“Nice, very nice!”

“My, Bulkhead, with such a load, you’re going to drown him in your fluids!”

“Such a good Endura, swallowing everything!”

Sentinel didn’t know who was talking and didn’t care much for now -- though he ought to take name and then find a discreet way to get revenge later on. He grunted a bit as Bulkhead caught his hands and helped him to his feets, only to make him sit in his laps. With alarm, the Prime noted that, despite having overloaded only a couple of cycles ago, Bulkhead’s spike was still long and hard-looking, ready to be touched and sucked again… or even better in the green mech’s mind, to be buried deep into his Endura’s tight port.

“Aaah… B… Bulkhead, dear?” he choked out as the large mech shifted him so he was facing Bulkhead’s chest instead of looking at everyone. “Aren’t you… aren’t you a bit… spent already? Shouldn’t you… relax and rest for a bit?” Oh please, despite the appearances, let him say ‘yes’, let him say ‘yes’!

But Bulkhead laughed it off easily, one hand starting to fondle Sentinel’s aft as the other lifted the front of the Prime’s dress, forcing Sentinel to quickly throw his arms around the Space Bridge Technician’s neck before he fell backward.

“Nonsense, dearest. I would be a poor Conjunx if I was already tired. Beside, even if I was, I think I see here something enough to bring me back to full strength,” he purred as he eyed Sentinel’s panty-clad crotch. His valve clenched over nothing as his Spark sunk. Sentinel squealed a bit as he was lifted and made to straddle the large spike. He wasn’t penetrated just yet, as Bulkhead was too busy lovingly nuzzling his face, but he could feel the tip of hit pressing against his valve. Sentinel gulped.

“Wouldn’t you prefer another blowjob?” he asked desperately, trying to shift and raise his body higher, far from the hard length ready to imple him.

Bulkhead grinned happily. “Oh, it’s very nice of you to propose, love, but perhaps later. Right now,” he purred, his engine revving, “I just want to enjoy your valve.”

And with that, he gripped Sentinel’s hips more firmly, forcing him down on the tip of his rod. Sentinel cried out in surprise as his valve started to stretch around the starting-to-become familiar spike. The thick length progressed easily inside his body, helped by gravity. Given the angle, it stroke numerous sensor nodes in a way that felt unfamiliar but very pleasurable to Sentinel’s body. Gritting his teeth with force to avoid screaming, optics shuttered, the Prime body shook as his valve was slowly stuffed full, to the point he thought it was going to burst.

Finally, at long last, Bulkhead sat totally in him. Sentinel, optics still shuttered, felt him move and lean forward.

“Open your mouth, Sentinel,” he said, rumbling pleasantly. Surprised, the Prime lighted his optics and blinked as a Beryl-Biscuit was presented to him by a happily smiling Bulkhead. “You make so many effort preparing them, it would be unfair if you couldn’t taste one, wouldn’t it?”

Was he really thinking it was the right time for a snack? Sentinel stared at him in disbelief and parted his lips slightly, intending on… well, not scream at him, but at least made a comment which might a been snarky. He wasn’t able to say a word before the green mech shoved almost half of the Beryl-Biscuit in his mouth, making Sentinel muffle in protest. Oh, the metallic biscuit tasted fine, but honestly, it wasn’t the right time! Just as he thought so, Bulkhead inclined his head downward and sealed his lips against his in a sort-of kiss, teeth cutting off the half of the biscuit inside Sentinel’s mouth. He munched on it happily, and Sentinel heard little coos and sighs.

“Sharing a treat like that is so romantic,” he heard someone sigh -- a Femme, probably Greenlight, it sounded a lot like her voice anyway.

Carefully, he munched on the treat still in his mouth and swallowed, giving Bulkhead a thin, not-convinced smile that the green mech was the only one to see. “That was… excellent,” he let out, trying to keep his voice even.

“I thought so too,” Bulkhead said happily. “I’ll give you another one later, alright?” Sentinel barely had the time to nod before his hips were lifted anew and he squealed as he was slowly lifted up Bulkhead’s length. The spike rubbed at all the nodes in his valve as he was lifted, and he couldn’t help but moan helplessly, his grip around Bulkhead’s neck growing slack. Then he was dropped off, his valve clenching around the thick length inside him as he fell back down to be completely impaled once more. He choked out a cry of pleasure and perhaps a little pain and surprise, as he hadn’t expected it. Bulkhead grasped his hips again and re did the same thing. And again. And again. He just lifted Sentinel’s body up and dropped him, letting gravity do his thing to impale him again and again and again and again…

Sentinel wasn’t too sure how long it lasted. He just knew he kept being stuffed full without a clear end in sight, and his body cared little for it. He kept overloading every few drops, shouting out his pleasure in a loud voice which made the people around them chuckle.

“For such a timid mech, he’s certainly pretty vocal!”

“My, my, such a nice little Endura, overloading so much!”

“I bet you’ll have him with sparkling soon if you keep making him overload like that!”

Curiously, it seemed it was that last statement which made Bulkhead overload in turn, his transfluid shouting out and up to fill Sentinel’s valve, some going deeper inside still to reach the reproduction chamber. Sure, with the contraceptive chip he bore, there was no risk he’d get impregnated, but the idea of having a Creation seemed to do wonder on Bulkhead’s libido, a detached, still active part of his CPU registered as he stumbled forward, hiding his face against Bulkhead’s shoulder. The green mech gently patted his back and nuzzled at his helmstacks and their little decorative bows. That said, he didn’t slide his spike out of Sentinel.

“Oh, it seems we have no more treats,” Stilbarrel called out as he looked over the table, on which all plates were empty.

“Oh, but don’t worry, Goodmech Stillbarrel; there’re plenty left in the kitchen,” Furrow said as he finished licking clean Steelflail’s spike. “If you excuse me a moment,” he said while looking at his Conjunx, who nodded pleasantly.

“Of course dearest.”

“I’ll help you,” Greenlight said as she too finished cleaning her Conjunx’ spike. Lancer gave her a contented smile and a pet on the helm as she rose.

Several other offers to help came through, and Sentinel lifted his helm. Eh, if he went to help bring more snacks, that would give him a break.

“I’ll help too!” he said as he tried to lift off Bulkhead’s spike. He swallowed as he noticed that the damn thing was still hard, even after two overloads. The Pit? It wasn’t usually like it.

His spark sunk as Furrow gave him a fond look and shook his head. “Now Sentinel, don’t worry. We’ll bring them fast. Why don’t you continue taking care of your Conjunx?”

Bulkhead rumbled approvingly. “Yes, sweetspark, how about we restart? Your valve feels so good around my spike, I can’t wait to have you bounce on it again.” Sentinel gave him a nervous smile. Oh, frag…

And bounced he did.

Bulkhead’s hands were strong and steady and wouldn’t allow him to shift away. The Prime kept rising up and going down on that spike, at a slow, tortuous pace, or at a fast, almost brutal one. He kept moaning and panting all the while, sometimes calling out Bulkhead’s name, and he overloaded several times more. Bulkhead kept feeding him Copper-Cookies and Beryl-Biscuits he was eating half-off from Sentinel’s lips, and made him drink small sips of oil and mid-grade energon with a flavor he wasn’t familiar with. Exhausted, Sentinel only prayed it was over soon. He was only thankful that the dress hide most of what was happening; even if the fact he was getting fragged was evident, his valve and Bulkhead’s spike were mostly hidden away by the fold of the dress, and only when Bulkhead lifted him too much did people really get a good glance at his overstretched and sore valve.

All around him, the other Enduras kept bouncing on their respective Conjunx too, taking their spike with an eternal cheer, muttering praises and encouragements for them to continue, because they were so close, and they were so virile and sturdy and powerful and they belonged to them and them alone… The air was warmth as multiple frames run hot. More blowjobs were given, more transfluid and more oral and valve lubricant spilled.

By the time the last snack was eaten, the last cube drunk and the last overload run through his frame, Sentinel was thoroughly exhausted. His reserves and his tank fuel felt empty, and he didn’t think he would be able to walk away on his own power. He keened and whined in relief as Bulkhead’s spike finally slide out of him, rubbing over his crotchless panty as it did so. Lubricant and transfluid thoroughly stained his thighs, and he made a note to scrub them extra hard tonight… if he didn’t fall in recharge in the middle of washing, that it.

“You were wonderful, Sentinel,” Bulkhead said, nuzzling his face. Sentinel gave him a tired and annoyed look. He so didn’t need to hear that.

Around them, couples stopped their ministrations and fragging. Enduras were carefully taken in their Conjunx’ laps, patted and kissed and stroked. Some took out plugs out of subspace and carefully slide them under their Bonded’s dresses, pushing them in their valves to they would remain filled with their fluids. Sentinel looked at them with half-shuttered optics. Ah! He was lucky Bulkhead didn’t… have… one… of… that…

Except, the green mech was holding one for him to see, a short, large one, black in color with little drawings in red paints all over. Sentinel’s optics widened and he silently mouthed ‘no’ and shook his head with difficulty. Bulkhead’s spike was one thing, but he didn’t want that thing inside him. Bulkhead hummed and nuzzled him.

“It’s just for a little while, Sentinel,” he whispered at his audio receptor. “Only until we’re back home, then you’ll be able to take it out.”

And with that, he lifted Sentinel’s dress and buried the plug inside his valve. Sentinel keened as he felt it rub slightly against his sore walls. Oh, he was going to strangle Bulkhead… when he’d had enough energy for that.

Gently, carefully, Bulkhead helped slide down from his lap and made him kneel before him. His spike, though now limp, was still covered in a mess of fluids. It didn’t take long for Sentinel to realize he was silently asked to clean it up. Why, the other Enduras were all doing it, as various speed, depending on their energy level and tiredness, though none seemed to be as tired as Sentinel. Except Pollen and Apis, who looked fragged out of their processors and were grinning while staring at nothing. Due to their delicate state, their mates had made them sit in their place in the seats and were standing in front of them to allow them to lick them clean without having to go down on their knees.

Sentinel shrugged it all and started to work his glossa slowly over Bulkhead’s interface array, all the while listening distractedly as the green mech muttered encouragements and praises to him.

But the time he was clean, Sentinel was ready to drop in recharge. Noticing, Bulkhead took him in his arms and started to carry him bridal-style.

“Well, it seems like your Endura has no stamina,” Stillbarrel remarked with a smirk. His Endura frowned a bit at him and gave him a light slap on the hand. “A bit disappointing, don’t you think?”

“Be polite, dearest,” she warned him. Stillbarrell shrugged it off; he wasn’t sorry to tell the truth.

“He’s not used to interface so much at once,” Bulkhead acknowledged, shuffling and looking apologetic. “But it’s alright for me.” Optics half-shuttered, Sentinel grunted slightly. The plug inside him felt uncomfortable, and he really wanted to be back at Shady Acres, in his own berth, to take it off.

A couple of others mechs laughed. “It’s alright for all of us, Goodmech Bulkhead. I do remember other people who were once easily tired after some good interfacing,” Steelflail winked at his Endura, who chuckled. “I trust you won’t stay much longer in our company?”

Bulkhead nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes. I’d like to put my Bonded in our berth so he can recharge peacefully and recuperate his forces. Tomorrow solar-cycle will be another tiring one, and I’d rather have been well-rested. So, my dear Goodmechs and Goodwives, I wish you a nice end of cycle,” he said, bowing.

There were more talk, more polite and over polite goodbyes. Sentinel wasn’t really listening. He just curled more in Bulkhead’s arms, seeking warmth and listening to his systems work. He didn’t fully realize he was in the Zap-Horses cart and that it was moving until a while later.

“... Bulkhead?” he asked tiredly, trying not to fall into recharge. “Does that… happen often?” he said, referring to the afternoon they just had.

“... about each time energon farmers have time to spare, so… not so often. At least, not with so many people present. It’s more common with one or two couples, perhaps three of four max,” he said quietly.

“... why?” Why frag in public was the actual question, but he didn’t have the strenght to say it entirely.

Bulkhead understood anyway, paused and thought about it for a second. “Because. It’s… ah, how to explain… Most Conjunx work hard and long in their fields, so sometimes they have little time to give to their Endura. Moments like that are thus precious to them, because they allow them to recuperate the time they’ve lost,” he said carefully. “I mean… farmers aren’t shy about themselves or their Bonded. They don’t mind if anyone see them frag, as long as they understand that their mate belongs to them alone. And interfacing is a way of honoring Primus… kinda. It allow to create bitlets, and to perpetuate the species. Primus created us to do so, or so some of the holy texts say. It’s like… you know that verse, ‘make love, not war’? Well, it’s really like that for energon farmers.”

Sentinel tried to wrap his head around the idea. “... and… It always… last so long?” Fragging wasn’t the hardest part, he had decided. It was to see things being drawn out for so long without a proper break.

Bulkhead shook his head. “Rarely so long. Then again, it all depends of everybody stamina, of the treats you serve, of the conversation you have while fragging,... lot of little things.” He made the Zap-Horses go faster. “I haven’t managed to quite work with all the questions you had asked me to ask them. Don’t you worry, though. I’ve gotten what I think is a couple of good background informations anyway, I’ll make you an official report once we’re back at Shady Acres.”

“Don’t care,” Sentinel grumbled, snuggling against him. Bulkhead blinked; well that was new, Sentinel not being interested by things related to the mission. Then again, he was so tired he was barely coherent. It made Bulkhead’s Spark swell with pride, knowing he was the one who had reduced Sentinel to that state.

Fragging the Prime had revealed itself easier and more fun than he had anticipated. And everybody had commented on how good his Endura looked, and how dutiful he seemed to be once he lost some of his 'shyness'. Sure, some of them liked to imply that Sentinel was far from being a good Endura yet, but it pleased Bulkhead to have people compliment him on his mate’s looks and his tight and ready-looking valve. Things like that made him damn proud to be a good Conjunx, and the only thing that could have make it more perfect would have been a couple of bitlets running around and giggling as their Carrier and Sire worked on making them more siblings.

… If it hadn’t been a mission, a fake Bonding and Sentinel a fake Endura, of course.

Still, it was nice to dream. He gave Sentinel a side look and wasn’t surprised to see him already in recharge. He would put him in berth when they’d be back home. He would prepare him a meal himself, and prepare the tub for him. A long soak in hot water would help him clean up and relax, Bulkhead was sure.

And in the meanwhile, he’d work on finding a way to calibrate his audio receptors so they would muffle Sentinel’s shrieks and his scream of rage and outrage once he was reenergized, in full possession of his means and able to swear at this new, previously unknown part for him of a traditional farmer’s life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One orbital cycle and half after their arrival on Agri III, the mission's progresses are going slowly, and Sentinel hears after the first of a series of local Festivals...

Almost an orbital cycle and half later, and they weren’t any closer to find the Decepticons and their informants, much to Sentinel’s chagrin.

Their surveillance installation had yet to track down a single signal, a single message. Radars and signal trackers were working at full capacity but they never picked anything suspicious. They allowed to discreetly tap into some bot comm. frequencies, but the energon farmers so seldomly used them that it was pretty much pointless. They never spoke of anything suspicious either… Not that Sentinel bothered to listen and actually cut the feed quickly once a couple started to babble about how they wanted their other half and frag him right now.

Honestly, it was distressing they did so little progresses, for it meant they were forced to stay until they found SOMETHING at the very least. Cybertron Command hadn’t tried to contact them either -- though they had given strict orders for a no-communication policy unless there was an emergency. The only contact they were supposed to have was a direct, face-to-face report with an Agent or two who would come directly to the farm, under the guise of being old friends of either Sentinel or Bulkhead wanting to check on them. They would, in theory, come every three orbital cycles if the mission prolonged itself. Sentinel dearly hoped it wouldn’t; frag, he had hoped they would make quick progresses and bag the traitors, informants and Decepticons hiding on Agri III in a couple of deca-cycles, so he could go back to Cybertron with honor and forget everything about energon farmers and public fragging, but Fate seemed determined to prove him wrong.

Frankly, everybody around here was suspicious and above suspicion at the same time.

Their maps of the area were full of little notes they had added progressively, carefully mapping out each properties around, indicating their names and who they belonged to. Sentinel had trouble keeping them straight, sometimes: Happy Vale belonged to Farrier and Nightglow, Bright Crystal to Mayor Levitacus and his two Enduras. Fruitful Orchard was to Huller and Pollen and Breezy Heights to Cultivator and Apis. Mill Steam was to Groundsplint and Roller, Mirror Lake to Tidalwave and Moonshift, Misty Marsh to Threasher, Peaceful Rest to Doctor Counterstep and Sterling, Sweet Dale to Baler and Scythe, Rippling River to Auger and Mistcover, Serene Meadows to Steelflail and Furrow, Glimmer Pond to Brimstone and Shock, Sighing Brook to Lancer and Greenlight,...

It gave Sentinel a headache trying to memorize everything about the properties, from their size to the exact emplacement of their fields, to say nothing of their productions of mechanicrops, which Bulkhead insisted was important. One could easily, he argued, walk behind grow rows of Metallo-Maize without being seen. A spy could easily use the overgrown mechanicrops to travel from a corner of the town to another, passing by the fields, without ever being seen, if he knew where to go and what he was doing.

Then there were the sparklings who were running around and underfoot. Sentinel rarely saw them around, as they spend most of their time at a ‘school building’ near the Temple, were Father Spica, the Sisters and the Pastors took turn at teaching them the bases of a traditional Cybertronian/Autobot education (including reading, writing, counting, Sciences, History of the Commonwealth,...) to which they added classes on Religion as well as farmer-life needed skills. It included, apparently, cooking and needlework, just like Sentinel was being taught by the adults of the community.

The older younglings usually worked in the fields with their Sire or took care of the mechanimals or other stuffs. For example, Churn, the eldest of Steamroller and Rennet, spend almost all his time on their property of Harmony Grove, playing shepherd to a herd of Electrosheeps and carefully brushing and milking ChronoCows with his Carrier. As well, Nectarbead, Stillbarrel and Dewdrop’s eldest Femme creation, spend a lot of time picking up wild items the two elder youngling after her, twin Femmes called Raindrop and Honeydrop, sorted out and prepared instead of their Carrier.

The rest of them just played around in the fields or at each other houses, often watched over by their older siblings. Sentinel had had little contact with them, and he didn’t feel any worse for it. Besides, he’d rather not have sparklings catching him in compromising situation.

Oh Primus, he had thought his Spark had skipped a beat when, during a small Conjunx/Endura’s reunion -- small in the sense where they only were four couples involved -- that Bulkhead had accepted to go (despite Sentinel threatening him over his comm. link), one of the sparklings had barged him to show his Carrier the pretty crystal he had just found. To see a Sparkling standing here, watching his Carrier and neighbors giving blowjobs… Eck!

But nobody had seemed fazed by the incident. The Carrier in question, Yoke, had just stopped momentarily his work on his Conjunx’ spike, looked over gently at what the sparkling had intended to show him, smiled, patted the little helm, chatted with him for a couple of cycles before chiding him to have interrupted them and send him back his merry way before he took the spike he had been sucking on back in his mouth after having excused himself for the unplanned break to his Conjunx. Said Conjunx, Mayor Levitacus, had just chuckled and allowed his Bonded to continue.

Sentinel didn’t think he had ever lived in a situation more awkward and surrealistic. Kids who caught their parents interfacing asked questions! Screamed! Did… something! But not this one, or any other sparklings here.

Bulkhead had later helpfully pointed out to him that most of these bitlets already knew where sparklings came from, and that they knew that their Sires and Carriers were working on making them new siblings to play with. If they didn’t quite understand how, they knew enough to not worry and be perfectly desensitized to the witnessing of casual interfacing. Worse, some of them actually PLAYED at interfacing like the grown-ups! Sentinel had witnessed himself a pair of sparklings sitting in a corner, one bouncing on the other’ laps while yelling. And when he had reported it, concerned, to their respective Creators, everybody had shrugged or smiled and had seemed to find it cute!

“How adorable! Perhaps they’ll end up Bonded for real when they’re bigger!”

It still made Sentinel feel weird. Did everyone here had interfacing on their mind since sparklinghood?

Anyway, anything that happened around here helped him reduce his list of suspects.

The only ones he thought he could reasonable scratch of the list were the two expecting couples, Pollen and Huller and Apis and Cultivator. There was little chance a carrying mech could make a good spy… Well, he could have, but not Pollen or Apis. As their gestation period progressed, they could work and move away from their respective farms less and less. So, Sentinel felt pretty confident they weren’t spied or hiding Decepticons. Their respective Conjunx were eliminated from the suspect list for pretty much the same reasons. They just didn’t seem to leave their farms or their Enduras’ vicinity, always looming over them, worriedly asking if they were feeling alright. So no, not really prime suspects material.

The rest… well, there were strange things going on, Sentinel was sure. Stillbarrel was a very suspicious mech, and so was Moonshift -- and it had nothing to do with their criticisms of Sentinel and they way he fulfilled his ‘duties’!... Nope. It hadn’t!... Perhaps. Anyway, they were rubbing him wrong, and Sentinel was certain they weren’t as innocent as they looked!

There were a recorded, increasing number of strange incidents on Baler and Steelflail’s properties, from a turbofox managing to pass the fence and attack Robo-chickens, to a Wild IronBoar doing ravage in a Photon-Potatoes field. Curiously, nobody seemed overly concerned by such incidents. Perhaps farmers were used to have some at random, but really! Bulkhead made sure to record every incident he heard about, claiming it was information like any other, and Sentinel was forced to concede he might have been on something -- again. For an incident signaled on another farm, you could count at least three on Sweet Dale or Serene Meadows. There was something going on here, Sentinel was certain. Too bad he couldn’t act on his suspicions just yet; intel wasn’t sufficient yet to decide of a correct action to take.

Aside of that… they were still searching, and still ‘settling in’, as Bulkhead liked to call that.

He continued to take cooking lessons with the other Enduras; it was a real pain sometimes, but at least it allowed both Bulkhead and him not to starve. And he was making honest progresses, he had to admit. Now, it only took him two or three failed tries before he managed a new recipe right. He could managed soups, raw mechanicrops, a couple of treats and sweets,... Well, he could definitely vary the meals now, and Bulkhead actually rumbled in satisfaction and pleasure when he tasted them. For some reason, it made Sentinel’s Spark swell with pride, which was ridiculous. Why should he care if Bulkhead liked what he was making or not?

Sewing and other needle works were… passable, he supposed. He wasn’t ready or about to make a dress anytime soon, but he had finally managed, after a lot of efforts, to finish a patchwork cover, which had let him to be applauded by cheering Enduras, pleased by his progresses. Now, they were trying to make him knit. He had managed a scarf, after some difficulty -- so what if there was a few holes here and there when he had missed a stitch? It was wearable anyway! -- and now, they were trying to teach him how to knit… basic panties. His face flushed in embarrassment each time he thought about it.

That his valve remained bare didn’t bother him as much as before, physically at least. But he remained very conscious of it whenever they were invited together with Bulkhead for a ‘snack’. To have the green hulking mech manhandle him and make him bounce on his spike without Sentinel being able to escape or protest much, and knowing others could catch a glimpse of his valve if Bulkhead wished so… Brr. He almost prefered the blowjobs; at least, nobody really stared at him while he knelt with his head between Bulkhead’s thighs.

… What was he saying?! He disliked both and couldn’t wait for this mission to be over so he could run away from here and forget all about it! Perhaps, if he managed to get back in a proper position of authority, he could make Bulkhead transferred at the other end of the Commonwealth-controlled territories so he wouldn’t see him again?

Shaking his head to clear his thought, Sentinel considered wistful thinking for now. He was stuck here with Bulkhead for the foreseen future, and he’d better be able to gather more info for a proper report in one orbital cycle and half.

“You’re alright Sentinel?” Nightglow called out to him as he approached with a basket in his arms.

The Prime looked at him then down at his pedes. A basket half-filled with crystalberries laid here, and it dawned on him that, so lost as he had been in his thoughts, he had stopped picking them up on the bush before him a while ago, thus gathering Nightglow’s attention, and possibly Greenlight, who was further away and watching them with a slight frown.

“Perfectly alright,” Sentinel forced himself to smile. “I was just thinking about… stuff,” he evaded before someone could ask him anything. Curiously, for all their shamelessness at interfacing in public, energon farmers seemed to really respect privacy…Of some sort. If one just said he was thinking, they wouldn’t pry.

Nightglow nodded slowly. “Well, I hope you’ll sort whatever is making you so thoughtful soon. Do you want me to take your basket?” he asked casually.

Sentinel shook his head as he rose from his crouch, smoothing his dress over and wiping his crystalberries juice-covered fingers on his apron. “No, no, that’s fine, I’ll carry it myself,” he said as he took the half-filled basket and walked over the cart the three Enduras had let in a corner. Quietly, he transferred the content of the basket in one of the large barrel in the back. It was filling rapidly. Greenlight, Nightglow and Sentinel had started picking up ripe crystalberries megacyles ago, slowly filling over three barrels, about half as large as Bulkhead.

Sentinel shook his head as he mentally calculated the quantity. “I just don’t understand what you expect to do with so much crystalberries. It’s far too much for us and our… our Conjunx. And I don’t even know how to cook them…”

Greenlight laughed as she dropped her own basket’s content in the last barrel. “Oh, it’s not for us, it’s for everyone. We’re just the one who volunteered to pick them this time.” Oh, so it had been a volunteer work? Funny, they hadn’t said that to Sentinel, only come to get him and said they’d really like his help for a work, and he had accepted, too happy to escape yet another needlework lesson.

“So… are we going to distribute them, then?” he asked dumbly.

Nightglow gently put a cover over the already full barrels. “Not exactly. You see, these crystalberries will be used to make crystalberries wine and jam and pies we’ll eat in the coming Harvest Festival,” he explained. “It is in two decacyles now, and it’s the just the time we need for the wine to be ready. The rest will be stored in the freezing barrels until we need them,” he added as he typed a code on a pad on the cover, which immediately fixed itself solidly to the barrel and a burst of cold air escaped it.

“Crystalberries jam and wine?” Sentinel inquired politely, trying to remember if he had come across it in the recipe datapads he had been given recently to practice on his own.

“Jam is a mixture of sweet mechafruits boiled down with Hydrogen-Honey Sugar, and wine is a form of high grade,” Greenlight explained.

Sentinel blinked. “You know how to make high grade yourself? I thought you only bought the stuff on the market?” For Primus’ Blessing had a market going on about once a decacycle, where most of the farmers sold or traded goods to other farmers from nearby communities. A couple of merchants from Riverbend also came, selling cubes and bottles of high grade energon. So far, Sentinel thought he had seen every couple or single mech in town buy some.

Greenlight laughed. “Well, it’s true we buy some from the stands, but we really prefer to make out own when we can. Only, it’s not… well, you need a licence to make it,” she said as she looked around.

Nightglow picked up. “Primus and the Priests don’t frown down on high grade, though they encourage people to consume it with moderation, and for the most part, it’s sufficient. Farmers were allowed to make their own, using their own energon crystals. However, Agri III’s High Council got concerned, a hundred of vorns ago, that people were driving themselves to addiction, and decreed that artisanal high grade fabrication was unlawful, unless one bought a special licence, gave reports on his production and allowed himself to be regularly controlled. The licence and equipments necessary have become more expensive as time went, and now, only one family or two by village has one,” he finished. “In our case, it’s Mayor Levitacus who owns one, and it’s Yoke who prepare the wine. He only does so for special occasion, like the Festivals.”

Sentinel had heard of Festivals several times now, but nobody had really elaborated on them, and he hadn’t asked. They seemed to be communal meals made in honor of Primus, with special celebrating done later in the day. The Prime thought he would ask for details when one came around. The rest of the time, he didn’t think of them at all.

“And it’s just our luck Spindle reconverted Lacey Lane’s fields to grow crystalberries, which are usually ripe a couple of weeks before said Festivals,” Greenlight pipped with a smile. “They don’t require much care, so he doesn’t have much to do on them when he comes around, and we’re allowed to come and pick some at will, provided we keep him a few bottles of wine and pots of jam and pay a small fee. It’s totally worth it.”

“And everybody pays?” Sentinel asked.

“Sure. It’s Lancer who collect them,” Greenlight said, gesturing at her Conjunx who was working in a field next to them. “Our Sighing Brook isn’t a big property, and since Lancer want to get money on the side in case of emergencies, she decided she needed more lands to cultivate. Spindle rents us the rest of his fields, and in exchange, Lancer collects the fees for the crystalberries and alert him of any problem, and I make sure to come and clean the house every decacycle when Spindle is away.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” Sentinel said quietly. Just how much didn’t he know yet about the other farmers, exactly? “Uh, I don’t think I’ve paid that fee,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“Don’t you mind, dear,” Nightglow consoled him. “Bulkhead already did.” At Sentinel startled look and frown, he added. “We told him a decacycle ago, and he paid Lancer right away. He had said he would come and help if he had time, but it’s really more an Endura’s task.”

“... right,” Sentinel groused. He really, really needed to have another ‘discussion’ with Bulkhead about things the mech wasn’t supposed to do behind his back.

As they took a break and watched over the fields, Greenlight hummed softly. “You know, it’s probably stupid, but… I dunno, I still have the impression there crystalberries bushes aren’t giving all they could. It’s like… I can’t fight the lasting impression there should be more berries to pick.”

“Now that you say it, it’s true there seems to be less than last stellar cycle,” Nightglow mused, frowning. “But, then again, you know it isn’t rare for our sparklings to come and pick some for themselves. Little tykes are fond of them,” he said with a small smile. “It’s also why Spindle wants a fee,” he said to Sentinel, turning toward him. “It allows him to cover potential losses as well.”

The Prime was frowning as he watched the bushes. “Are you sure it’s sparklings who steal them? Assuming it’s stealing,” he added quickly.

Nightglow shrugged, puzzled. “Well, I don’t see who else it could be. Though I wouldn’t throw a stone at a vagrant if he really needed fuel and took the crystalberries to fill his fuel tank, none were signaled in the region for several orbital cycles, and there are only honest mechas around here.”

Privately, Sentinel thought that Decepticons weren’t honest mechas. One of them could have come at night steal berries to refuel, if he was in hiding, or someone could have picked them for them. He’d need to investigate matters later.

“Good day, pretty Goodwives,” a voice called out, and the three Enduras turned toward a large mech in a grey robe who was walking toward them with a smile.

“Good day to you too, Pastor Acrux,” Nightglow nodded with a smile. “It is rare to see you out of the Temple. What can we do for you?”

The large mech boomed with a pleasant laugher. “Little, my dear Goodwives. I was on my way to Misty Marsh when I saw you, and I couldn’t just pass by without properly salute you. Especially the lovely Sentinel, our new arrival,” he added, bowing to him. “I am most pleased to see you taking such an active part in our community. It brings credit to you and to your Conjunx.”

Sentinel flustered. “Ah, uh… thank?” he squealed, feeling uneasy.

The Pastor chuckled. “Lovely and shy indeed. I’m sure Primus will bless your union soon and make it fruitful.”

The allusion at future gestation cycles was clear, and Sentinel’s cheeks reddened even more and he ducked his head, not wanting to look at anything or anyone. It’s been a big talk since a few solar-cycles; when was Sentinel going to carry his first Bitlet? Apparently, it wasn’t rare for a newly bonded couple to start having sparklings as soon as one orbital cycle after the Bonding ceremony, and Sentinel was just in the right period. Well, they would wait for long! Thank to the contraceptive chips, there was no chance he ended up carrying!

… Granted, he was already on his second box. Despite supposed to be good for a deca-cycle each, some of the chips actually lasted for a shorter period. There seemed to be a small current in Sentinel’s systems which used them faster than they should, or so he thought based on the FAQ datapad furnished with the chips. He couldn’t go and ask doctor Counterstep, so he could only guess. At this rate, he was using his reserves faster than he had expected, but it didn’t make him too nervous, not now. He had enough left for at least two full orbital cycles, even with shorter lasting effects. And anyway, he should receive more boxes when the Intel Agent would come to visit, so even if he was without a contraceptive ship for a solar-cycle or two, it wouldn’t be a problem… if Bulkhead managed to keep his spike behind his panel, something Sentinel intended to enforce with prejudice.

There was more laughter at Sentinel’s demeanour. “So shy,” Pastor Acrux commented. “Well, I must go, lovely Goodwives. Little Rockcrusher needs my care.”

Nightglow frowned. “Threasher’s little one? But I thought it was Sister Alhena’s role to take care of him?”

“It is,” Pastor Acrux nodded. “But she has been feeling unwell since last solar-cycle, and I’ve decided to replace her until she feels better.”

“Oh my! Will you transmit her our wished for her prompt recovery?” Nightglow exclaimed.

“I’ll do, I’ll do,” Pastor Acrux said, nodding gently. “And now, I must go. Have a nice day!” He turned and started to walk away, before he paused. “Oh, it reminds me… don’t forget that ThankPrimus Day is next decacycle, and that we expect you to come to the Temple for the rise of the sun,” he said as he turned toward them again.

ThankPrimus Day? Sentinel blinked. What was that?

Besides him, Nightglow and Greenlight nodded gravely. “We’ll do, Pastor Acrux. Stay assured that we’ll be there on time.”

“Good,” the mech rumbled. And with that, he walked away.

Sentinel turned toward the other two Enduras, frowning. “So… what is ‘ThankPrimus’ Day, exactly?” he asked.

********************************

ThankPrimus Day, it turned out, was a day the Enduras all spend in prayers at the Temple, thanking Primus for their lot in life, for their strong, handsome Conjunx, for their numerous and adorable sparklings, for their good health and for the harvests he had obviously blessed. Really, it was nothing terrible at first glance.

Sentinel was quickly learning that everything, absolutely everything on Agri III should be second-guessed.

Sure, ThankPrimus Day was a day of prayers, but it also had a certain… particularity that Sentinel was definitely NOT fond of!

He had come at the rise of the Sun, as the Pastor had asked, with Nightglow and Roller trailing after him. About every Endura in town was already here, chatting lightly as Father Spica, the emerald green main priest, watched over them, silently counting them and acknowledging their arrivals.

At his side was a richly decorated chest, closed by layers of chains and three padlocks. Sentinel wondered what was so precious they had to resort to such precautions. As the last of the Endura entered, Father Spica nodded at the two Pastor, Acrux and Alkes, and they closed the doors, barring them with a steel beam. For some reason, it started to worry Sentinel some.

“My dear, sweet Goodwives,” the Priest started, making all conversation stop as everybody turned toward him. “The sun is now rising, and with him, Primus is waking up and watching over us. It is now time for us to pray to him. It is now time for you to thank him fully for what he gifted you with.”

Nods and cheers came in answer, and Father Spica nodded sharply and slowly pulled on a chain around his neck, imitated by Sister Ara and Sister Alhena, who stood on either side of him. At the end of each chain, hanging like a pendant, was a key. Calmly, the three mechas stood before the chest, and with a coordinate gesture, opened all padlocks at once. The chains fell down too the floor with great noise, and the crowd fidgeted. Sentinel felt his Spark beat faster. What was going on exactly?

Father Spica pushed the lip back and plunged his hand inside the chest. After a few breems of rummaging, he pulled an object out, and Sentinel’s jaw dropped.

In his hand, the priest held a false spike.

Was it some kind of joke? Or, worse… was there something someone had forgotten to tell him AGAIN? What was the false spike for? Was it supposed to be, just guessing, a representation of Primus’ own spike they had to pleasure in turn? … Yeah, right, as if it was going to happen! And there was something about the shape and the size, it vaguely reminded him of something...

Right before Sentinel, Shock, the Bonded of Brimstone, clapped happily. “This is my Brimstone’s spike,” he cooed as he walked over the Priest as he nodded.

“It is. Now, come forward, Shock, and take the most loving gift Primus made to you.”

With that, the tall, thin mech eagerly came to the priest and took the false spike in hand. Without much of a care, he lifted his dress and started to push the toy in his already lubricating valve, moaning softly as he did so, until it disappeared almost entirely inside him, only stopped by the flanged end of the toy. Shock trembled slightly and moaned even more, and Father Spica nodded at him and directed him toward the next room. By the wide open doors, Sentinel noticed several cushions placed on the floor, and Shock was helped to walk by the two Pastor until he reached one, whereupon he knelt, hands joined in prayer.

Sentinel watched it all happen with wide, disbelieving optics. It was a nightmare. It had to be. The repeated interfacing with Bulkhead, the name of Primus mentioned in so many conversations and the public fragging were just making his CPU have bad memory purges. Except, when he pinched his plating in order to wake up, he was still standing there, in the middle of a room, with the head priest distributing false spikes to people.

“Sentinel? You’re looking a bit pale, are you alright?” Nightglow said, walking to him, face anxious.

“... false spikes…” the Prime managed to get out, and Nightglow had a flash of understanding. Well, understanding for him, because what he said next wasn’t at all what Sentinel had expected or wanted to hear.

“Oh! Oh, that. Yes, I know Primus generally disapprove of false spikes…” -- wait, what? Sentinel thought desperately -- “and that their use is not… well, it’s not proper, but this is okay here. See, the one you take is identical to your Conjunx’s own spike, so it isn’t a sin, and it isn’t cheating,” Nightglow said with a small smile.

Sin? Cheating? It was a slagging interface toy! What did it have to do with Primus and prayers and what’s not? He was supposed to take that thing in his valve?! For how long?! What was the point?!

“Sentinel?” Father Spica called out his name. “Come and receive the loving gift of Primus.”

The Prime stayed frozen on the spot, and as he refused to move and tried to weakly shake his head, Nightglow patted him and looked at the frowning priest with a sad but understanding look.

“Please, don’t be too hard on Sentinel, Father Spica. He’s ashamed of having to receive pleasure from a false spike rather than from his husband’s real one.”

The priest’s optics lightened briefly in comprehension. “Is that so? It is to his honor that he’d rather wish for his Conjunx and his virility, but today he must allow himself to be filled with a replica, to properly pray and thank Primus for having gifted him with such a good Bonded. His prayers will lack strength and passion in Primus’ optics should he not be filled. I understand if he’s shy and hesitant, but it is not a sin, nor is taking in the Spike of Primus a sin.” Ah, so there actually was a false spike of Primus somewhere? The Prime thought dazedly. “Please Sentinel, come forward so we can process,” he called gently to Sentinel, who was still staying frozen in place and mute, optics a bit dazed. Father Spica shook his head sadly. “Well, it seems like he’ll need some help. Could someone help him walk over here?”

Finally, Nightglow, Yoke and Mistcover all caught him and dragged him forward, assuring them it wasn’t a sin, that it was nothing to be ashamed of, and that Bulkhead would understand. Well, Sentinel didn’t care about Bulkhead understanding! He just didn’t want to have that thing inside him! The real thing was bad enough, he didn’t want a toy as well?

Except, he didn’t have time to protest. By the time he managed to gather his wits and glare at Father Spica, the emerald green mech had already lifted his dress and was processing to push the tip of the massive false spike inside him. For a moment, the Prime had the fleeting impression the priest was frowning at him… or rather, at his panty-clad crotch, right above his bare valve level, but it was soon lost on him as the large toy was forced into him. Sentinel cried out in surprise and thrashed a bit, but the other three Enduras were holding him firmly, cooing at him.

“It’s alright, Sentinel, perfectly alright. By tonight, you’ll be able to get home and take the real thing again,” Mistcover said softly to him. Was it supposed to reassure him?!

Sentinel keened and moaned as the toy was pushed deeper inside him. They hadn’t lied, it was shaped and crafted exactly like Bulkhead’s spike… without the transfluid. Shoulders shaking and sagging, Sentinel tried to muffle the sounds he was making, with little success so far. He was only too relieved when the toy was finally totally put in place, the flanged end resting against his valve’s rim. His valve was stuffed full, and when the mechs holding him finally let him go, he almost fell over.

“Alkes, Acrux, help him walk,” he heard Father Spica said as his helm was gently patted. “It is alright, Sentinel. I’m sure Primus will listen to you even more closely, knowing how much an effort it is for you to take even a replica of your Conjunx’s spike instead of the real thing.”

Sentinel hated them all, he decided as he was shifted in powerful arms and frog-marched to the next room, moaning as the toy shifted inside him with each step, rubbing against sensor nodes set alight by the presence of the large toy inside him. He was lead to a cushion, on which he was made to kneel, and his hands were pushed together in a prayer. Sister Ara, who was keeping watch in the room, handed him a metal wire on which numerous beads had been slung.

“Wh…?” he started to say, wincing as he shifted and the toy moved once again.

“The prayer beads for reciting your prayers,” the Sister said with an understanding smile. You must recite them all days.”

Had he mentioned already he hoped it was a nightmare? Because right now was a really good time to wake up! But no, it was real. The toy which was spreading wide the walls of his valve felt far too real -- and uncomfortable -- to be anything but true.

He was supposed to thank Primus for having the damn thing shoved into him, and against his will, he should add?! Why should he?! He didn’t even like riding Bulkhead’s spike, for Pr… for the Allspark’s sake! He only did so because they didn’t have a choice if they wanted to pass for a normal, average couple! He wasn’t going to thank a divinity in who he only had a limited belief for having him gone through more humiliation in less than two orbital cycles than he had in one lifetime!

Except, it sounded pretty much like he had little choice over the matter. The Enduras kept filling the room as they were too filled with replicas of their Conjunx’s spikes and lead to their own cushions -- and Sentinel at least reluctantly conceded they were a nice touch; if they had to stay kneeling for long, they could as well be made comfortable. Even Apis and Pollen joined up, though the Priests were far more delicate with them and the Sisters knelt by their sides, whispering. Obviously, they were here to intervene quickly should the carrying mech and femme felt uncomfortable or indisposed. He almost approved. Almost, because they might be all nice and sweet with them, but they still had forced Sentinel to participate.

Finally, everybody was made ‘ready’, and Father Spica walked over the Altar, before which he knelt and started to pray. One by one, the Enduras started to mutter prayers of their own, that Sentinel couldn’t quite make out. He recognized at least one, a generic verse from the Book of Primus that all sparklings had been taught about in the Youth Sectors, and frowned. Was he supposed to do the same?

“Recite this one,” a voice whispered to his audio receptor, and Sentinel almost jumped out of his armors. As it was, he moved briskly and made the toy inside him shift, leading to a sharp cry from him. Pastor Acrux smiled down on him, his visor glinting. “Ah, don’t be so nervous. You don’t know the traditional prayers, I take? No, don’t answer, I’ve been on Cybertron once, I know they don’t teach more than the basis. Simply recite a ‘Primus Noster’ for every beads in your hands, and between each, thank Primus for something different. Think it’ll be alright?” he asked, face full of solicitude.

Sentinel nodded, tense. Yes, he could do that. Pastor Acrux patted him. “We’ll have to taught you more later, but it’ll be sufficient for today, especially considering it’s the first time you celebrate.”

With that, he rose to his feet and walked away, to go and whisper encouragements and pieces of advice to other Enduras, straightening the back of one or patting a helm here and there, careful of not walk on their dress and holding his own string of prayer beads, muttering them as he moved across the room.

Trying not to shift as to not make the toy move and accidentally make him overload, Sentinel started to recite the ‘Primus Noster’ with gritted teeth.

He really, really hoped the coming megacycles would pass quickly.

****************************

In the end, he overloaded.

Several times.

To his defense, it was rather hard not to, what with being stuffed full with a toy so large -- never mind one which was a perfect copy of Bulkhead’s spike -- and try to stay quiet and immobile while trying to pray. He had constantly needed to shift, bothered by the feeling of the immobile length inside him, and in turn it had only allowed the toy to move and stroke his sensors, making his valve clench hard around the unwelcome intruder. Sentinel had ended up praying it’d end up quickly.

His only comfort was that he wasn’t the only one to have overloaded due to the false spike. Everyone had had experienced at least three or four overloads on average, if one had to judge from the noises they were making and the amount of lubricant they spilled. Sentinel just had the discomforting impression he had been the one to whom it had happened the most.

ThankPrimus, his aft, he thought as Pastor Acrux gently made the toy slide out of him. Thank Primus for nothing, yes!

He waddled more than he walked out of the Temple. In that, several Enduras were imitating him, which soothed his wounded ego a bit. But most of them seemed to walk just fine to throw themselves in the arms of their Conjunx, who were waiting at the door of the Temple, smiles on their face. Sentinel felt both irritated and weirded out by them; how could they walk normally when they’d just spend about the whole day stuffed full? Tidalwave was even bigger than Bulkhead, and his spike just as large, and still Moonshift didn’t even seem to have a limp!

Sentinel picked Bulkhead in the crowd and walked toward him, slowly. He almost fell down on his face, stumbling over uneven ground, but the hulking mech caught him around the waist immediately and straightened him.

“You’re alright, Beloved?” he asked nervously as Sentinel glared at him.

“Do I look alright to you?” he hissed? “Do you have any idea of hard the day was to live through? I spend it kneeling with a slagging false spike in my valve! One they forced into me, before they forced me to pray!” Bulkhead gulped nervously and looked around, making sure no one had heard Sentinel. The Prime had kept his voice pretty even, though, and most people were already leaving, so they didn’t bother listening in. “And what were you doing exactly, while I was held prisoner?”

Bulkhead coughed. “Well, I, uh… prayed too?” Sentinel glared at him. “And, and I cleaned the house! And I’ve cooked you dinner! And… I milked the ChronoCows? And got the eggs from the Robo-Chickens? I would have taken care of the sparklings too if we had some,” he shuffled nervously.

“Is that supposed to made it up to my day?” Sentinel asked, teeth gritting.

“Uh… kinda? You thank Primus, and I… thank you for everything you do?” he offered, chuckling nervously.

Sentinel gave him a flat look, indicating he wasn’t impressed at all.

“Goodmech Bulkhead, may I have some of your time?” Father Spica said as he walked over to them.

Sentinel stiffened a bit in Bulkhead’s arms as the green mech nodded. “Of course, Father. What could my humble self to for you?”

The priest smiled at him. “I must admit that I am rather pleased with Sentinel’s participation today,” he said with a nod to the Prime, who turned his head away. “He’s making obvious efforts to be a good Endura, that much we can all see. As well, we all noted how much effort you put into making Shady Acres a prosperous farm yet again. I’ve been lead to believe you’re expecting your first Plasma-Peas this decacycle?”

Bulkhead nodded. “Yes, Father. This variety you have really outshone my expectations, and I’m ready to pick them soon. But I feel I’ve no merit, it’s the earth and the mechanicrops and Primus who should be praised.”

“Primus’ will certainly played, but it is your hands that allowed his will to shine through,” the Father said back. “You worked hard, and now you’re about to taste the fruits of your labor. It is the mark of a good mech, one we would be happy to have as King of the coming Harvest Festival, with his lovely Endura standing by his side as Queen,” he said, bowing and smiling at both Bulkhead and Sentinel.

Sentinel blinked in confusion. King and Queen of the Harvest Festival? It was the first time he ever heard about it! But the title sounded nice… Cybertron had no royalty, but some planes of the Commonwealth and some organic species referred to their rulers as Kings. ‘Queen’, he knew, was rather used for a female ruler, but it was still a title of power. ‘King’ would have best suited him: King Sentinel Prime! But he understood that in a society which put so much emphasis on what the role of a Endura and a Conjunx were, Sentinel would have to do with being the ‘Queen’.

If the announce puzzled but somehow pleased him, Bulkhead, for his part, seemed to be beaming. “King of Harvest? Me? Really? I… I don’t know what to say!”

Father Spica chuckled. “This is quite alright, Goodmech. It can be a bit overwhelming, and I know it was rather sudden. I can count on you as the Royal Couple for the Festival, then?”

Bulkhead seemed to hesitate and looked at Sentinel. The Prime shrugged and nodded. Who knew, perhaps that for once, he would get something nice out the deal? Bulkhead grinned widely before accepting the priest’s proposition.

Father Spica nodded pleasantly. “Then it is done. I’ll let the Enduras know so they can help Sentinel prepares a proper dress for the Festival. That said, Bulkhead…” he paused and his optics narrowed a bit. “It came to my attention there was a sort of… peculiarity” -- he glances quickly at Sentinel -- “ in your couple that would need to be corrected as soon as possible.”

Bulkhead seemed to deflate and shuffled nervously while Sentinel frowned. Which peculiarity was he speaking about? The fact Sentinel wasn’t wearing their ‘wedding rings’? He had noticed all the other Enduras wore their own, thought most Conjunx didn’t. Bulkhead kept his on him, but Sentinel had refused to carry around or pass his on his servo. The fact he knew it was all that remained of his valve cover was almost enough to make him purge or rant.

“Ah, uh… yes, yes, I know, and I… we intended to correct it,” Bulkhead mumbled, “but it… well, it never seemed like the right time. I… I suppose it’s high time.”

Father Spica nodded gravely. “Indeed. See that it’s done for the Festival, would you?”

Bulkhead nodded and Sentinel frowned even more. He had a feeling a part of the conversation was escaping him, silent subtext coloring everything. “It’ll be done in time, Father,” Bulkhead assured him.

The priest nodded and bid them farewell, going to talk to another couple. Sentinel turned toward Bulkhead with puzzled optics. “What was that all about?”

Bulkhead shuffled nervously. “Uh, nothing… nothing very important,” he pretended airily. “Uh, how about we get back home?” He quickly released Sentinel and made his way to the Zap-Horses cart.

Sentinel frowned. “Don’t try to evade the question you - oof!” he said as he stumbled forward. His temporary immobility had made him forget about the ache in his port and his need to take small steps in order to walk without falling. Taking a too long step, he was now falling. Once more, Bulkhead caught him before he hit the ground.

“Sentinel! You’re alright? Of course not you’re not alright, you’re exhausted!” He took the Prime in his arms, bridal-style and carried him swiftly to their cart. “We’re going home, and I’m going to prepare you a good, filling meal, and I’ll prepare you a bath and… uh, I wanted it to be a surprise, but I bought some hypersolvent and high quality polish on the market today, thought it could please you,” he mumbled.

Sentinel perked up at that. “Really? You managed to find some?” He was almost hopeful; he hadn’t seen any polish and good quality solvent since they were here, and Sentinel longed for them so he could finally, finally feel clean again.

Bulkhead nodded. “Yup. Got you two or three bottles of each, plus special rags.”

Sentinel started to really smile. “Sometime, I feel like I could really love you,” he said as he rubbed his hands together, already thinking of the solvent he was going to use, and how good polish would help him feel like a normal Cybertronian again.

So caught up in his dreams of washracks and cleanliness, he let the ‘peculiarity’ mentioned by Father Spica slip his mind.

That’s it, until Counterstep came to visit them the very next solar-cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
> • ThankPrimus Day: celebrated by the farmers' Enduras. They spend the day at the Temple with a false-spike which is an exact replica of their husbands own shoved in their valve, praying and thanking Primus to have given them such good Bonded, and so many adorable sparklings. Their respective Conjunx take over their usual duties while they do, taking care of the sparklings and the cooking and cleaning, among other things, to show their appreciation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentinel get a bad surprise. Again. Well, he gets several ones, in fact...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
> • On marital sex: Energon farmers have no concept of marital rape. It is their understanding that couples best honor Primus through hard work and interfacing and producing offsprings who will worship him in turn. Bonded love each others and have sex, and that’s it.

“Oh, Counterstep, Sterling! We weren’t expecting you so soon!” Bulkhead clamored as the Doctor and his Endura made their way inside.

Sentinel grumbled as he straightened his apron. He hadn’t expected them at all until Bulkhead had told him they were having guests this afternoon cycle during lunch. As such, he had had to prepare a plate of Cobalt-Cupcakes, the latest treat he had been taught to make, in order to feed their guests. Or at least Bulkhead and the other Conjunx. Sterling and him would be too busy sucking or bouncing on spikes to really partake in the fuel.

The Prime tried not to make a face. He really, really hated the public fragging thing, but he was powerless to stop it. When a couple greet another in their own home, it was expected fragging would ensue, even without more guests to partake in the… celebrations. Thus, Sentinel knew it was going to be yet another long afternoon for him. Hopefully, whatever the Doctor and Bulkhead had to speak about would be quick.

Sentinel didn’t even know why Counterstep had come. If they had had a wounded or sick mechanimal, Bulkhead would have called in Lifespring. And neither the oaf nor Sentinel were ill, so really, it was puzzling.

Counterstep laughed. “Well, I managed to clear up my schedule unexpectedly. Turns out that Rainbarrel wasn’t really sick, he was just pretending so he wouldn’t have to go to school today. His Sire noticed it pretty quickly and annulled my visit. So here I come,” he said with a small bow.

Sterling smiled benignly at Sentinel. “You really did a great work on the house, Sentinel.”

The Prime shrugged. He was forced to regularly clean up, since it was once of his ‘duties’, and he had hang on curtains offered at their Bonding and other he had realized in his sewing lessons. It wasn’t much, but it provided the farm with a more lively air than before. “I’m glad to know you like,” he said noncommittally.

There were some more idle chat as they went to the living room and took place in the couches, Bulkhead and Counterstep facing each other as they lounged in their respective seats, legs already parting and panel opening to allow their spikes out. As he knelt after bringing in the expected snacks and oil cubes, Sentinel groused about the habit energon farmers to never speak of anything important until they were already in the middle of fragging.

With some distaste, he looked at Bulkhead’s huge spike. He didn’t think it really was a good thing that he was getting used to seeing it so close to his face, even as he wrapped his hands around the base and as he parted his lips and started to lick it, especially the underside, eliciting some pleased rumbles from Bulkhead.

The Doctor and the oaf talked lightly for some joors as Sterling and he started to suck with more… enthusiasm. Sentinel almost shuddered at the idea of doing _that_ with as much noises and pleasured noises as Sterling, who was making a show of himself -- even if Sentinel had his back to him and as such, couldn’t see him. His own sucking was slower, and much quieter, the size of Bulkhead’s spike making his jaw ache as it dropped open even more to allow more of the hard length down his intakes. Curiously, Bulkhead had both of his hands holding Sentinel’s head down and still over his length, allowing him little movement.

“Now, Bulkhead, you know why I’m here,” the Doctor commented seriously as he petted Sterling’s helm, encouraging to continue what he was doing with his glossa. “Honestly, it surprises me you didn’t call me sooner. It should have been done since the day of your Bonding, really, and I find it hard to imagine you never did anything for Sentinel’s spike until now.”

Wait, what?! Sentinel’s optics widened and he startled. What were they discussing his spike?!

Bulkhead rumbled. “Well, yes, I know it is unusual… But Sentinel grew up in a society where social roles aren’t defined quite like here. I didn’t want to make him feel too pressured…” Pressured into what?! What was Bulkhead talking about?!

Counterstep nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see that you care very much about him and his well-being. But an Endura doesn’t need a spike anymore. His valve is his gift to his Conjunx, and his spike is just a relic of his past he must let go of. I do understand Sentinel wasn’t feeling ready to get his spike removed on your Bonding day…”

WHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sentinel made a muffle sound, a mix between a choke and a bellow of rage and incomprehension. Were they really speaking about… about CASTRATING him? No way! Nowaynowaynowaynoway! Never, ever!

He tried to jerk off and free his head so he could start shouting at everyone and defend his mechhood with teeth and claws if needed, but Bulkhead’s handle on his head barely allowed him a jerk, and his fists, pounding on the thick plating of the mech’s thighs, just made Bulkhead grunt a little. He couldn’t even bite him, as the spike in his mouth didn’t allow his jaw to work properly. He was… he was trapped! Panic went through him as the realization hit.

“... and that you wanted to give him some time to get used to the idea, but it’s long past the time for him to become a real Endura. I don’t even want to think of some of the Conjunx’s reactions had they know your Endura could have spiked theirs if he had wanted to. Quarterstaff in particular would have been incensed,” the Doctor shook his head. “You know how he is about proper station and behavior.”

Bulkhead nodded, barely struggling to hold Sentinel still. In truth, he was a bit sorry of having to do that, but if Sentinel had known about that sooner… and if he let him speak now… they’d be running into troubles, and Bulkhead couldn’t allow that. “I know,” he acknowledged the Doctor’s words with a soft sigh. “But well… the Bonding happened so fast, Sentinel wasn’t ready, and we were still trying to chose between complete removal or a cap,” he explained. In truth, they had never spoke of it. Bulkhead had come to realize, quickly enough, that Sentinel didn’t even known he should have been capped at the very least if he wanted to really be above suspicions. But well, with his attitude toward Bulkhead and his unwillingness to have a conversation that wasn’t related to the mission when they were alone together, the green mech had prefered not say anything.

It was a bit cruel, he mused and winced, but Sentinel was a hard mech to live with sometimes. He shook his head. “Anyway, with the coming Festival, we judged it was high time it was done. And we’d rather have a cap, if you’d will, Doctor,” he said quietly.

Counterstep nodded and groaned as he overloaded his Sterling’s mouth. “Yes, I had thought so. That’s why I permitted myself to bring over several models. Oh, dear, I’d like you to give me another blowjob first,” he said to Sterling as the silver mech let go of his spike.

The Endura nodded. “As you wish, my Beloved,” he said as he started to lick the already hardening cable anew.

Counterstep shook his head and allowed himself a couple of little moans. Damn, his Endura knew how to work him over… “As I said, I’ve brought several models. I’m not without knowing some of the… peculiarities couples use to spice their interface lives,” the Doctor said with a wink, which made Bulkhead fluster and Sentinel made several loud noises. He was finally stopping to bang on Bulkhead’s plating and listening to the conversation in fear and rage.

“First off, the Doctor started, “we have the classic, standard model. A permanent spike cap, soldered over the spike housing, with installed lines of coding that will turn off all spike sensors.” Bulkhead nodded warily, but didn’t seem convinced. “Next, for couples which are a bit more… kinky, we have the Class II-B-ON-D. Simple and possibly removable by a medic, it’s send little electric impulsion in the spike housing when it detects the spike is trying to rise. The slight pain it cause -- nothing worse than a sting, I assure you -- allow for a bit of pain-play in the berth, if you’re into that, but I guess it isn’t your case?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Bulkhead was blushing too hard for him to be interested. “Then we have the opposite: the Class II-P-L3AS. Of a similar model, the electric impulsion it sends don’t cause pain but instead divert the energy so it is sent back to the valve, making it much more sensitive and ready for an overload.” Bulkhead’s face was still very red, but he looked more interested already. Counterstep gave him a smile. “Undecided? Finally, we’ve also the Class III model, a cap closer to the classical one, with a little peculiarity: it is removable by the Conjunx. The cap is coded to only open if it can sense the Spark energy of the Conjunx nearby. Ideal for couples who wish for a little variety… or want to give a treat to their Endura.”

“It’s… very interesting,” Bulkhead allowed out. He hadn’t thought so many models existed. A cap was a cap, as far as he knew, so he had never thought there could be… variants. So, what to chose? He lowered his optics and crossed them with Sentinel’s angry, fearful ones and he winced. Not a permanent one, and no pain-play; he couldn’t do that to Sentinel. And besides, he didn’t want the Prime to scream at him even more than he was going to do already once his mouth was free. The P-L3AS sounded nice, but he doubted Sentinel would like it very much, so…

“... I think we’ll take the Class III model,” he finally said, swallowing dryly.

Counterstep nodded quietly. “I’d thought as much. So… when do you want it installed?”

Bulkhead thought about it and looked at Sentinel, who looked up at him warily. “... I think now would be best,” he said in a quiet voice, making Sentinel’s optics widen in fear and rage. Oh, he was sorry, very sorry they had to do that with the Prime not wanting to at all, but… there was little else to be done. Now that Father Spica had noticed Sentinel wasn’t capped, he wouldn’t let the matter drop until he was. And it could turn nasty, and potentially dangerous for the sake of the mission.

He’d deal with Sentinel’s verbal abuse and possible murder tentative later. For now… for now, the Prime had to be capped.

Counterstep made a gesture for Sterling to stop and move back as he rose to his feet. “As you wish. It won’t be long, just a few cycles. The coding is pretty much self-installing,” he explained as he took a small box out of subspace. It was full of little medical tools and also contained a smaller box in which the cap was laying. “Care to have your Bonded in a more comfortable position?”

Bulkhead nodded. “Sure.” He swiftly let his spike slide out of Sentinel’s intakes, making the Prime choke and cough, but before he could protest and start to shout, Bulkhead had him lifted and sitting on his laps, one arm binding him against his chest, facing the Doctor, and the other on his mouth, muffling any sound before he could made them.

Sentinel kicked and thrashed, but couldn’t free himself. Counterstep watched him fight uselessly with raised optics ridges and an understanding smile. “Feisty. He really isn’t too kind on losing his spike, is he?”

Bulkhead grunted. “Told you. Cybertron thinks both spike and valve are important, and encourage bots to use both.”

Sterling stared at them in disbelief. “How very… unpractical. How can one be expected to be a good Bonded and a faithful one with such arrangements?”

Counterstep gently patted his shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it, my Love. Autobots are good folks, even if they’re a bit… deviant.” Deviant?! Sentinel thought with some hysteria. They were the ones who fragged in public and castrated their mates and AUTOBOTS were the deviants?!

Counterstep held out the spike cap and knelt before Sentinel and Bulkhead. “Now,” he said to Sentinel with an encouraging smile. “Try to relax some; it’ll be over quickly.”

And he was right, Sentinel mused later, once he had managed to calm himself down. It was indeed very fast. A vague sting when the cap had been pressed down against his spike cover, as little pikes pierced the plating and inserted himself in his systems, downloading codes lines into him, and another when the pikes spontaneously started to melt down and fuse with his plating, making the cap a part of him.

Sentinel shook and cried and whined, thrashing to free himself, to no avail. The cap was installed and activated long before he managed to escape Bulkhead’s hold.

His behavior was far from what a good Endura should have acted like. However, neither the Doctor nor his mate commented on it, even if they were surprised. Sterling would later get the impression that Sentinel still hadn’t bene ready for a cap -- his citybot background refusing to admit it was necessary and for the best -- even if he knew he had to get one and needed it done as soon as possible. Privately, he thought it sad that Sentinel, who was willing to so much to please his Bonded, was unable to part with something as useless as his spike. He would, however, never comment on it or share it as gossip with his fellow Enduras. For Sentinel’s dignity and pride, he would keep the secret. It wasn’t, after all, the first time he had to keep something intimate to a couple secret; being Endura to a medic, he knew full well what secrets some families liked to hide…

As it was, Counterstep and Sterling cut their visit short. It was obvious Sentinel was too upset for polite conversation and small talk, and that his Conjunx was distressed by his behavior. So they bid their farewells and left, not without congratulating Sentinel once more on his Cobalt-Cupcakes and the good state of his house.

Which, Sentinel mused later, was perfectly stupid. Were they really thinking he’d care about it?!

As soon as they were left alone, Bulkhead released him, and the Prime shrieked in rage as he tried to rip the spike cap off -- only to have to stop as it only hurt him; the slagging thing was now part of him!

“Remove it! Immediately!” Sentinel bellowed, throwing a plate at Bulkhead’s head, who dodged quickly.

“I… uh, I don’t think I can,” Bulkhead said as he ducked once more, another plate being throw at him.

Sentinel was beyond furious. “You. Will. Take. It. OFF!!!” he screamed. “Ever since I came here, I had to dealt with public fragging, dresses, the loss of my valve cover, the endless learning of inane skills I couldn’t care less about and bots who keep expecting me to start carrying! I deal with a lot of things already, I have to, but there’s no way I deal with a spike cap!”

Bulkhead sighed. “You’ll have to. If you’re not, you’re going to gather too much attention. And beside, you’ll be able to have it completely removed once we’re back on Cybertron,” he tried to reason.

“Is that supposed to be calm me?” Sentinel shrieked. Bulkhead winced and started to think fast. Hmm, perhaps…

“No,” he acknowledged, and Sentinel paused. “But I think that will,” he added as he pounced, knocking Sentinel to the floor and shoving his head under the Prime’s dress just as he grabbed his waist. He lowered the crotchless panties with his teeth as he lifted the Prime’s aft a little.

“Get off you fragging oa… ooooh!” he moaned as he felt the spike cap slide open and Bulkhead’s lips and glossa start to play with the housing. His spike twitched at the sudden attention and started to rise out of the housing, Bulkhead delivering licks and kisses over the extending length, without much qualms.

His aim was simple. If Sentinel was upset about not having access to his spike anymore -- even though he hadn’t used it since they were here and wouldn’t -- then Bulkhead was going to give him a spike overload to show him it was still here and that, despite expectations, he didn’t mind giving the Prime a blowjob himself if it meant he would calm down.

His plan was… an half-success. Sentinel kept protesting and hitting him, but never too hard, and he kept moaning and panting as his spike was sucked, making Bulkhead rather happy with himself.

When Sentinel finally overloaded and he rolled to the side, he looked up to the Prime, who was still glaring at him, though he wasn’t screaming anymore.

“Don’t expect me to forgive you so easily,” he hissed, optics almost white with anger.

Bulkhead gulped but tried to stay calm and even. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” he answered carefully. “That said… I don’t mind giving you spike overloads every now and then, if you like them better than a valve one.” Sentinel’s optics narrowed. “I mean, I like to interface with you, and I’m not against some variety, especially if that means you’re not angry with me after…”

It wasn’t the smartest thing to say; the Prime immediately threw something at him, and once again ducked to the side.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have added the last part…

*******************************

Sentinel had changed his mind. He didn’t want to be ‘Queen’ of the Harvest Festival! If anyone else wanted the title, he’d gladly give him!

Except, he couldn’t. King and Queen were always a Bonded couple, Bulkhead had no intention of stepping down because he was gushing under all the attention and praises the townfolks gave him, and besides, once you had agreed, there was no way out of the deal. Frag, if Sentinel had known what would be asked of him as ‘Queen’, he wouldn’t have let Bulkhead agree for them both!

The Festival had started… nicely, he supposed. A large feast with mechanicrops harvested from each energon farmers’ fields, ‘lovingly’ prepared by their Enduras -- and Sentinel had participated with Plumbun-kin pie, which had earned him lots of pleased comments on how nice it was of him, and how great it was to see that he was getting so dedicated to his duties as Endura.

It made Sentinel twitch in nervousness, irritation and downright contained anger. Frag being an Endura! The shock of having his spike capped had gone, but the anger remained. The Prime had send Bulkhead to sleep on the couches downstairs, warning him there was no way he would allow him in the berth they shared after that. He had also warned the oaf they would NOT answer positively to invitations for both at somebot place; Sentinel would still go to Endura-only reunions to further his ‘skills’ and gather intel, but no, no and no, he wouldn’t go to a ‘casual meeting’ with Bulkhead again!

No more interfacing at all if he could help it!

He hadn’t counted on the so-called ‘Harvest Festival’ to have something to do with public interfacing. Again.

And it had started so normally, too! Prayers and a sermon at the Temple, a large feast for everyone -- where Sentinel got to enjoy the famous Crystalberries wine distilled by Yoke with the crystalberries he had picked with Greenlight and Nightglow, and he had to admit, it was quite tasty --, booths with games for the sparlings and younglings (and adult mechs who wanted to try), like a Dart game and a Shooting Gallery -- Sentinel had considered trying it himself, as he needed something to calm his processor, but had finally opted against the idea; he was a good marksman (well, good enough, and he had followed advanced training in the Elite Guard, even if his weapon of choice was his lance), and he didn’t want to bring too much attention to his skills. In the end, he ended up throwing Zap-Horseshoes so they fell around a picket.

All in one, it had seemed like a nice, quiet day, and Sentinel had felt himself relax.

Then night had started to fall, sparklings had been sent home under the care of their older siblings -- or youngling neighbors who had solemnly promised to take good care of them until their Creators came to get them back -- and the adults had gathered to the Temple, Endura and Conjunx exchanging loving glances.

And here they were now, standing before the Altar in Primus’ Temple, ready for… fragging on the Altar as ‘Primus Chosen’, ‘King and Queen’ of the Festival and ‘Blessed beings who shared some of Primus’ essence with their fellow farmers’.

No, Sentinel was definitely not happy at all. Especially since he had had to remove his panties -- damnit, he didn’t like the damn things, but at least they served to sooth his frayed CPU, if only a bit! -- before they were promptly lead to the Altar.

Sentinel glanced at Bulkhead, teeth clenched. “And when were you going to tell me about the fact people ‘consumed fluids blessed by Primus’ to ‘increase their fertility’ on this Festival?” he whispered, voice full of refrained anger.

Bulkhead glanced back at him with a little wince. “I thought you knew! It is not my fault you weren’t prepared accordingly for… for everything,” he whispered back as he gently pushed Sentinel forward, very aware of the townfolks’ gaze on them.

“I remark that you didn’t think to alert me yourself,” he groused in a low voice.

“You didn’t ask,” Bulkhead pointed out. “Beside, you never want to listen to me when I try to speak to you.”

Sentinel bristled, wanting to say that, of course he had listened to Bulkhead! All the time! …Well, perhaps not all the time. But most of the time, the mech wanted to speak about inane things like mechanicrops and the best care of mechanimals, and stuff like that, and Sentinel had no patience for it! They were on a mission, they weren’t really farmers, Bulkhead wasn’t really his Bonded under Cybertronian law, and Sentinel wasn’t a good Endura! … Even if he cooked, sewed, took care of the mechanimals (and erk, he was never going to feel perfectly at ease milking a ChronoCow!), publicly fragged with Bulkhead and was wearing a spike cap to just enforce he was being the submissive partner in their couple.

Sentinel listened! He listened when things were important to the mission! Festivals hadn’t been! But now, he was starting to think he needed to reorganize his priorities’ order, if only so he would stop ending in messes like this one! He silently swore that the first thing he’d do once he was back on Cybertron -- after soaking himself for megacycles in hypersolvent of extra quality, the kind which could scrap your paint off if you weren’t careful with it, so that he would feel clean again, and after making sure someone removed that slagging spike cap -- would be to schedule a meeting with one of the Elite Guard’ shrink. He was going to have so many issues it wasn’t even funny! Perhaps he should ask for, what was his name again? Ring? Rang? Rung? Yes, Rung; he should ask for Rung; he was supposed to be the best they had, and Sentinel definitely deserved the best after living through what he was living.

The Prime eyed the Altar warily, as if it was a bomb. Well, perhaps not a bomb, but it definitely wasn’t something safe in his optics. Fragging on an Altar to get Primus’ blessing and mystically change his lubricant and Bulkhead’s transfluid in his owns… Were the people here on drugs, or any kind of intoxicating substances? Because that would explain a lot!

Their fluids becoming somehow Primus’ own weren’t the worse, though. It was the fact that they were supposed to share them with everyone.

Now, Sentinel considered himself a very calm and level-headed mech -- even if most of the Elite Guard tended to disagree. He could accept a lot of things. But not having his valve and thighs licked clean by random individuals (even if they weren’t so random anymore; in two orbital cycles, he had had the time to all meet them and know them some)!

Weren’t Enduras only supposed to be touched by their Conjunx, he had argued as he was being prepared for the ceremony -- changing dress to wore a more richly decorated one, with a special skirt, which was long in the back but very short in the front, stopping mid-thighs -- ?

Well, technically yes, but since there was no penetration and it was the only way to get Primus’ blessing on them all, it was acceptable, or so the priests and the townfolks said, trying to reassure him. Beside, they didn’t see Sentinel or Bulkhead as Endura and Conjunx for the duration of the ceremony, but Avatars of Primus. So it wasn’t shameful for Enduras to lick Sentinel clean, nor would it shameful for Conjunx to clean Bulkhead’s spike with their glossas.

Well, it might not be shameful for them, but it certainly was for Sentinel, the Prime groused unhappily as Bulkhead lifted him to put him on the Altar, spike already out and ready. Sentinel grimaced in disgust.

If they were asked to become King and Queen of a Festival again, he would make sure Bulkhead refused.

As he was pushed down, back flat on the Altar and Bulkhead spread his legs, staring almost hungrily at his bare valve (and Sentinel found that incredibly creepy and perhaps, just perhaps a small tad arousing in the back of his processor), the Prime gulped, shuttered his optics and started to pray it would go fast.

It did, and it didn’t. Bulkhead always took his sweet time thrusting inside him. Very aware of his girth and of Sentinel’s smaller size, he never rushed things if he could help it. So when he pushed his spike inside Sentinel, it was always slow, loving and sweet. Only after did he pick up any speed, once he was sure his lover’s valve was well accustomed to his large spike. He thrusted in and out at steady paces, making sure to hit as much nodes clusters as he could, making Sentinel moan and groan in obvious pleasure as the Prime thrashed under him, lost in bliss.

Sentinel had a very… receptive and sensitive valve, the green mech thought distantly as he moved the Prime’s legs, putting them over his shoulders and changing the angle of his thrusts. They didn’t know why exactly; perhaps Sentinel was secretly a valve mech, even if he refused to acknowledge it: Cybertronians might have been sparked with both spike and valve, everybody had extra sensor nodes on one of the two parts, making them more sensitive to touch on these parts.

Sentinel prided himself, Bulkhead knew, in doing the spiking most of the time with his conquests. Aside of the idea someone was willing to interface with Sentinel willingly outside of the mission -- not that Bulkhead had to force himself at all, the Prime’s aft was just that attracting to stare at when one took the time to shut out the Prime’s voice --, it surprised Bulkhead that the Prime put so much emphasis on the fact he liked spike-overloads. Visibly, he was in denial over the fact he was best suited for valve-overloads… or he really disliked just how much it made him lose control over himself. Too bad, because he looked damn good when he lost all inhibitions. Bulkhead was half-tempted to keep video recordings to remember it… once the mission was over.

But, back to Sentinel and his moans. He was always reduced to mindless drone whenever Bulkhead fragged him, and it was good to see and hear. Not only because Sentinel wasn’t protesting and almost ripping their cover while he was like that, and because it made Bulkhead’s Spark swell with pride to have a lover so satisfied by his ministrations.

Light seemed to emane from the Altar under them, and Bulkhead recognized the signs that, as a youngling, he had been taught were a manifestation of Primus’ presence, blessing the coupling taking place, showing his approbation of the two mechs on his Altar.

With a few more thrusts, Bulkhead roared, making a show of his overload as he felt fluids rush out of his spike and deep into Sentinel’s body. Carefully, he withdrew himself, letting his transfluids run freely out of Sentinel’s valve, just as fluids and lubricant both coated nicely his now temporarily limp spike. Honestly, he could have kept it hard and long with just a quick command, but it just wasn’t done. The cleaning was always done when the spike was limp.

He helped Sentinel sit down on the edge of the Altar. The short skirt wasn’t enough to hide away the bare crotch plating of the Prime, giving every person in the room a good view of Sentinel capped spike and of his leaking valve. Bulkhead’s optics narrowed a bit as he saw a couple of Conjunx look over the Prime and lick their lips in hunger, and he felt a surge of protectiveness and jealousy course through him. He put an arm around Sentinel’s shoulders and glared at some of the others Conjunx, silently reminded them that Sentinel was HIS mate, HIS Endura, HIS to touch and pleasure, not them.

Several of the mechs looked slightly ashamed of themselves, gave him a nod and put an arm around their own Enduras, some kissing them even, and Bulkhead calmed down. It was pretty ridiculous, the way he was acting. He shouldn’t get jealous; they wouldn’t touch Sentinel, after all. Their Enduras would; they were the only ones allowed to lick the ‘Queen’ clean. And an Endura touching Sentinel in such a way didn’t count.

Chiding himself, he helped Sentinel to his feet and bowed to Father Spica, who was organizing the crowd in two lines, the Enduras before Sentinel, and the Conjunx before Bulkhead. The priest nodded back silently before gathering everybody’s attention.

“Children of Primus, our Creator has now made his presence known, and blessed us by blessing the King and Queen of Harvest. It is time for us to partake in this blessing and share it. It is time for us to pray as we purify our Sparks and body with Primus’ own sacred fluids.”

With that, the Priest took a few steps back and allowed the first couple to advance and knelt before Bulkhead and Sentinel. Farrier and Nightglow looked at them with wide smiles. Sentinel looked down at Nightglow as the darkly colored mech looked up at him.

“I wish for another sparkling soon,” he said with a small smile. “May Primus’ blessed fluids raise my fertility so that my wish soon become true,” he intoned in a low voice as he buried his face between Sentinel’s thighs for a few licks.

The Prime shuddered both at the sensation and at the words. Frag, he had been told it was customary for mechs to make a short prayer or enounce a wish before they… took some of ‘Primus’ fluids’, but damn… He found it creepy. That, and the glossa licking at the edge of his valve felt very, very weird, so he felt pretty relieved when Nightglow stopped and rose up, licking his lips free of the last drops of fluids he had ingested.

The relief didn’t last long, though, for as soon as Nightglow and Farrier -- who had greedily licked Bulkhead’s spike partially clean -- took a step back, another couple knelt in their place. Once again, the process was repeated -- a wish or a prayer, and the disturbing feeling of a glossa running along the inner part of his thigh, near the crotch, cleaning away little rivulets of transfluid and lubricant mixed together. Then another couple, and another glossa. The Prime felt thankful nobody commented on how ‘sweet’ or ‘good’ he tasted; he had had a few lovers who had done that in the past, and it had always made him feel put off. Sentinel shuddered sometimes as the glossa worked over sensitive parts, but held still, or as still as he could, trying not to let other mechs know just how much he was disgruntled.

By the time the fourth couple had finished, Sentinel knew he was clean, not feeling anymore fluids over his valve and thighs. He was starting to relax, thinking it was already over, when Bulkhead lifted him and put him back to lie down on the Altar, making him yelp in surprise.

“Bulkhead, wh…?” he asked, but then, as his ‘King’ made him spread his legs again, he realized by himself and stifle a curse.

Father Spica had said they ‘all had to partake in the blessing’. Basically, it must meant that everyone was entitled a go at licking Sentinel (and Bulkhead) clean. But he was already cleaned up, after only four couples, who had taken even ‘shares’ of the mix of fluids running down his thighs. So in order for everyone to ‘partake’... it meant that he was going to get fragged again. He moan in despair as Bulkhead’s spike entered him again, sliding smoothly inside him in just one thrust -- his valve was still stretched, allowing the hulking mech an easier penetration.

Frag them all… he thought vaguely. Then he corrected himself. Let them all frag each others… like they were obviously doing. From the corner of his optics, he could see the couples who had already ‘tasted’ his fluids, Farrier and Nightglow in the lead, lying down on the floor and interfacing right on the Temple’s floor, under the benign gazes of the priests. Moans and cries of pleasure abounded in the Temple as the couples fragged endlessly. Sentinel’s owns were among the lot, as Bulkhead fragged him thoroughly, before making him sit then stand once again for other couples to lick them clean before joining in the mass orgy going on the ground at the foot of the Altar.

By the time everyone had ‘partaken’ in the ‘blessed fluids of Primus’ -- including the priests themselves who, unlike the married couples, had a go at cleaning BOTH Sentinel and Bulkhead -- Sentinel was feeling exhausted. He just didn’t know how the energon farmers could keep doing when he himself was so tired he was having trouble keeping his optics online and ached so much he had to lean against Bulkhead to walk. Their tendencies to spend their time fragging must have allowed them to build up monstrous stamina, he didn’t know what else it could be.

He barely listened to the speech of closure Father Spica delivered, and barely acknowledged the praises and thanks he and Bulkhead were given as he was gently wrapped in a cloak to hide his a bit too revealed body -- he was too fragging tired to go change dress anyway. Everyone exited the Temple to go join their own Zap-Horses carts and go back home to their younglings, chatting happily. Too much energy, Sentinel thought as he was helped in the seat of their cart.

“You were perfect, Sentinel!”

“I know Primus will just bless us even more than usual thank to you!”

“Bulkhead is so lucky to have you as Endura!”

Sentinel nodded and grunted in acknowledgement without saying much. He just wanted to recharge. Still, as the Zap-horses started to advance on the dark road, barely illuminated by a single lantern suspended to the cart, Sentinel gave Bulkhead a half-hearted glare.

“It still changes nothing,” he warned him sleepily. “You’re still recharging on the couch.” He still wasn’t about to forgive him for the cap, and to allow him to recharge next to him. Not when, to make it even more processor-wrecking, he knew Bulkhead spend time watching him recharge and had once tried to kiss him.

Bulkhead made a face, obviously a bit saddened and irritated, but nodded anyway.

“Ok. If it’s what you really want.”

Sentinel nodded. “Oh yeah, it is. And nothing will make me change my mind…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who want to bet he shouldn't have said that? ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody... well, several somebody take interest in Bulkhead and Sentinel's life... which won't please Sentinel at all if he ever learns about it.

“Is that me, or… are Bulkhead and Sentinel have a… spat?” Greenlight inquired in a low voice.

Nightglow paused in his work, needle lifted in the air and fabric in one hand, tilting his head to the side with a frown. He wasn’t the only one. Around him, Rennet, Moonshift, Apis, Shock, Roller, Tiller and Dewdrop all paused as well, their own needlework also forgotten as they all pondered the question.

A spat between Bonded was rare around here. Couples seldom argued about anything, and if sometimes there were some opinion divergences -- everybody had still in mind the frosty conversation Huller and Pollen once had about what mechanicrops plant in one field, before they had both reached an accord and made out passionately to show they were now reconciled --, these arguments stayed rare and more often than not, private. A spat, meaning a quarrel bad enough everyone noticed, was almost unheard of and very worrisome to consider.

“Well,” Roller allowed, “there seems to be some tension between them, for sure. But an actual spat? I wouldn’t say so.”

“I agree with Roller,” Apis said quietly. “I suspect Sentinel didn’t want to come today because he was having a… a disagreement with his Conjunx, but really, I’m sure they’ve already solved it by now.”

“Actually… there might have a real spat,” Rennet mused thoughtfully. “I mean, Sentinel seems pretty irritated lately. And Bulkhead seemed a bit down in mood when I last talked to him the other cycle.”

“Down? The word is weak,” Shock intervened. “I mean, he refused an invitation for snacks with Sentinel that Brimstone and I intended to hold in four solar-cycles. He pretended there was too much work to do on the farm right now for him to accept, with a coming harvest he intended to do, but I checked out his fields, by curiosity,” he explained to the attentive Enduras. “Sure, his Wire-Wheat and his Metallo-Maize are almost ripe, but nowhere near enough ready to be harvested, and the rest is still growing.”

There were some muttering at the news. Refusing an invitation due to work was understood and accepted. But lying about your reasons for refusing? Unthinkable!

“Oh, I could tell you even more,” Dewdrop said as she leaned forward, a small conspiratory smile. The others tensed, listening to her every words. Dewdrop had a keen audio for gossip and could ferret secrets out like anything. “You see, the other day, I accidentally broke one of my biggest pots while I was cleaning it -- silly thing, really it slipped from my fingers -- and I had planned to use it to do my stock of Ovoid-Oranges Marmalade. I really, really needed one in replacement, so I send my little Ethyl see if Sentinel had one I could borrow,” she explained.

The others exchanged looks, not all convinced by the excuse. More than likely, Dewdrop had already noticed something was wrong and had wanted to inquire so she’d have something to gossip on today. Shady Acres wasn’t the nearest property to Foggy Bottom, Stillbarrel and Dewdrop’s property, but it was close enough that going there for borrowing something wouldn’t make people raise an optic ridge.

That, or because she liked expensive things of good quality and had noticed Sentinel had gotten some as Bonding gifts, she had really wanted to borrow a pot and then would have ‘forgotten’ to give it back. With her, both were possible. She wasn’t a bad Femme at all, and she was a really good Endura -- she already had six sparklings, and five of them were Femmes, a rarity that showed how much Primus must have looked upon her -- but she was also a bit selfish sometimes.

“Anyway, Ethyl came back a little later, without the pot and looking very perturbed,” Dewdrop continued, and everybody listened with more attention. “Turns out, nobody had answered her knocks to the door, so she looked by the window to see if anyone was home at all. And then, she saw Bulkhead. He was in the living room, lying on couches he had pulled together and, by all appearances… it was where he had just recharged,” Dewdrop finished in a rush.

The revelation made the other mechs and femmes gasp in shock. A Conjunx, not sleeping with his Endura? It was perfectly unthinkable!

“Perhaps… perhaps she was mistaken,” Moonshift said, visibly shaken. “Maybe… maybe he had just taken a nap?”

Dewdrop shook her head. “I thought so too, at first, but the next solar-cycle, I went over myself. And I did see Bulkhead lying on the couches, deeply in recharge. And I saw so the next solar-cycle, and the next. And even this morning, I checked, and he was still sleeping on the couches,” she said with finality.

Silence followed the declaration as people took it in and mulled over its meaning. It was a spat alright, and a big one, by the looks of things. Between Sentinel’s irritation and Bulkhead’s lingering sadness, the reason had to be pretty serious.

“But why would they fight? They’re such a nice couple, and they obviously love each other so much,” Tiller said, puzzled.

“Yes, it made no sense,” Roller added.

But Nightglow seemed thoughtful. “Well, perhaps something happened they have trouble deal with?” he offered feeling a little at lost.

“It seems obvious,” Apis commented, “but what? What could be so bad Sentinel refuses to… refuses to fulfill his duties as Bonded toward Bulkhead? Does someone has any idea?”

“Hmm, perhaps Bulkhead had an affair? Or perhaps Sentinel had one and Bulkhead discovered it?” Greenlight offered.

Tiller choked on the oil he had been drinking and Nightglow glared. “Don’t be stupid! Why would Bulkhead have an affair when it’s obvious he loves Sentinel? As for Sentinel, you saw just how shy he was! He couldn’t even stand getting filled by a toy, despite that toy being a perfect copy of his mate’s own! And during the Harvest Festival, didn’t you hear of nervous he was at the idea of anyone but his Conjunx getting anywhere near his valve?”

“Hmm…” Rennet hummed thoughtfully. “You might on something here. The affair thing, I mean. Kinda,” he explained quickly as Nightglow looked incensed at the very suggestion and Tiller and a couple of others even more weirded out. “Hear me out! Sentinel is shy, okay? He does fulfill his duties alright, but… perhaps he thinks he was being unfaithful to Bulkhead with his role as Queen during the Festival?”

“That makes little sense,” Moonshift commented. “Bulkhead knows perfectly well there is no unfaithfulness in this Festival. Besides, from all evidence, it is Sentinel who is causing the spat.”

“Well, perhaps he did see Bulkhead’s role as King as unfaithfulness?” Rennet tried again. “After all, he wasn’t raised our way. I dunno how Cybertronians consider it, but maybe, in Sentinel’s mind, Bulkhead was unfaithful to him by allowing someone else near his spike?”

“That’d… made more sense,” Moonshift allowed, though he was still frowning. “Coupled with how reluctant to be bared he appears to be at times… and knowing everyone saw him during the Festival… hmm…” he hummed, wondering.

“... if Sentinel was ill-at-ease with it, they could have turned down Father Spica’s offer,” Roller said, visibly put off.

“As a newly Bonded couple? Unthinkable,” Shock cut in. “You can’t honorably turn it down if it’s the first time you’re asked. It is allowed for you to refuse once you’ve been King and Queen at least two or three times already, of course, but almost no one does anyway.”

“Tss… Citybots are more trouble than they’re worth,” Dewdrop muttered.

“You shouldn’t say that. Some Citybots adapt themselves very well to live on Agri III, and Sentinel has obviously settled in very well. He’s just… He just might need a bit more time with some aspects, and understand nobody here would dream of taking his Conjunx away from him,” Nightglow put him.

“Probably,” Apis said as she rubbed her swollen abdomen. Her sparkling had given her a good kick. It was good sign; it showed he or she was strong and soon ready to enter this world. She couldn’t wait for her newest bitlet to be here already!

“Still… Sentinel is neglecting his duties,” Roller pointed out, optics narrowed. “Even when they argue, it is the most sacred duty of an Endura to share his Conjunx’s berth and fulfill his needs as well as his own.”

“That is so,” Tiller said with a slow nod, his optics a bit deem. “But there is little we can do about it, I’m afraid. Unless you know how to reconcile them?”

“Well, no,” Roller allowed. “But there must be a way!”

“Hmm,” Shock pondered the question for a moment. “Actually, there might be one,” he finally said as he looked over at Moonshift, and both mechs seemed to share a silent conversation.

“Oh, really? You have an idea, Shock?” Greenlight said, optics alight with happiness.

“Perhaps, perhaps. Nothing reconciles a couple like a good fragging, and I think we can all agree on it.” Everybody nodded, though Tiller’s own was less pronounced than the others. “So, if we could find a way to push Sentinel and Bulkhead in each other’s arms, I’m sure they’d solve of their problems in little time and would finally be back to be the loving couple they form.”

“Yes, it sounds about right,” Nightglow allowed, “but how to push them together if they barely speak to each others? Because it sounds like they don’t.”

“Well,” Moonshift said, “there’re some… chemicals that could help.”

Apis, Rennet, Roller and Tiller blinked, but Greenlight and Dewdrop immediately caught on. “Are you speaking… of aphrodisiacs?” Dewdrop let out in a rush.

“Yes I do,” the large mech said. Everybody seemed very put out by the very notion, except Moonshift himself and Shock, who was sharing a knowing smile with him. “You see, Tidalwave was always a very good Conjunx, but at the start of our Bonding, he was a little shy himself. Nothing like Sentinel, of course, but he wasn’t taking me quite as often as a normal Conjunx would. Shock had the same problem with Brimstone,” he added, looking at the other mech, his oldest friend.

“Very true. Brimstone was always loving and caring, but sometimes, he just couldn’t… fulfill his duties. So over time, we tried to… spice up things, and we ended up resorting to chemical added to our meals so as to… burn more easily with passion,” he explained, optics glazed and a little dreamy smile on his face. He even started giggling before he shook his head. “Well, it worked very well for us. Nine sparklings over time, as you know, and we resolved quite a few problems in the berth, thank to some… chemical help.”

“... It does sound like a good idea,” Nightglow finally allowed as everybody nodded. “If it can help them smooth over their differences and reform their couple, then I’m all for the use of these aphrodisiacs. I’m sure Sentinel and Bulkhead would agree.” There was a general cheer.

“There’s only one thing,” Rennet noted. “Just how are we going to give them these chemicals? For I don’t see them willingly take them if we just go to them with a bottle or pills. They would accuse us of butting in something that doesn’t concern us. Especially Sentinel; he’s a very proud mech, I’ve noticed. He doesn’t like having to ask for help. It is commandable, but really, he should trust us more.”

“The happiness of our fellow farmers IS our concern,” Greenlight said sharply. “Sentinel’s pride shouldn’t get in the way of their love!” There were a couple of nods and agreements.

“Not them, Sentinel only,” Moonshift corrected Rennet’s previous statement. “From all appearances, he’s the one who refuses himself to his Bonded, who’s far too nice to think about addressing the issue before his Endura is ready. And you can see he loves his Endura and wants to take him again and re-establish their Bond. Really, Bulkhead is a very nice mech,” he commented, and everybody nodded. “But you’re right, about Sentinel. He wouldn’t take them willingly if he knew what it was; he’s a proud mech, this one.”

“So… what would you suggest? Roller asked, curious.

Shock hummed. “Hmm…does anyone know what Sentinel’s favorite treats are?”

****************************

Uuuugh. Sentinel turned and tossed in the berth, his frame running hot. What the Pit was going on? He turned once more and curled in a ball, trying not to whimper. He didn’t understand what was happening to him.

Was he sick?

It was possible, he noted dimly, but he had felt fine all the solar-cycle. He had worked at weeding the fields -- since it was expected of him still -- and had gone over for more sewing lessons to Mirror Lake, Tidalwave and Moonshift’s farm. They had talked about… he didn’t know what anymore. The usual gossip, he guessed: how the sparklings were doing, how well Pollen and Apis’ carrying cycle were progressing, what they had cooked and intended to cook, how well their needlework was progressing, how much work they had on their respective farms,... Nothing exceptional, nothing that would hint at anyone acting more suspicious than usual. And, like usual in these reunions, there was always someone to comment on how large and nice their Conjunx felt inside them, and everybody joined in and gave details of their own, something the Prime refuses to share unless he felt very pressured. He never liked to talk about interfacing… and about how nice it felt. Sentinel’s valve heated even more at the thought.

Another needy whimper escaped him.

He had come home early, with baskets of treats the other Enduras had baked for him and Bulkhead as gift for the events which happened at the… Harvest Festival. Sentinel’s favorite in a basket decorated with a red ribbon, and Bulkhead in a basket with a blue ribbon. The oaf had been very pleased with the gift, and Sentinel had to admit he had been pleased as well with his. Without developing what he considered a real craving for the energon farmers’ traditional way of refueling, the Prime was starting to really like some of the things they consumed. Selenium-Strawberry tartlets was one of such things, so when he had gotten a full basket of it, he had dug in without a care.

Sure, Sentinel knew that he shouldn’t eat too much, and the Enduras had told him as well, teasingly mentioning he shouldn’t eat more than two a day, so he’d have treats for a while, but they were so good… How many had he eaten already? Four? Five? Something like that.

When he had gone to recharge two megacycles ago, he had felt fine. But now, right in the middle of the night cycle, his frame was aching and burning and longed for relief. He crossed and uncrossed his legs every few joors, whining as heat seemingly pooled at the apex of his thighs, around and in his bare valve -- he had long ago threw away dress and panties to recharge, especially now that he didn’t share the berth with Bulkhead anymore. Most of his unease and burning feeling came from his interface array, he dimly realized.

Tentatively, he brushed a finger against the rim of his valve, trying to assess if there was an injury or something. Oh Primus, he thought desperately as he moaned softly, his finger being instantly coated in a thin layer of lubricant. His valve was dripping with the damn thing and kept clenching on nothing, begging to be filled, stuffed full, used again and again. He needed something inside him, something more than fingers, that wouldn’t even take away the edge of the massive charge that was building inside him. He needed… wanted Bulkhead between his thighs, thrusting endlessly in his port to make him wail in ecstasy.

No! Hiding his face in the pillows, Sentinel shuttered his optics and tried not to think of anything, especially not lustful thoughts about his handsome, sturdy Conjunx and his wonderful… large… huge… spike…

His valve clenched, hard, and his optics lighted suddenly, black spots dancing before them as he cried out weakly, almost mewling as his hips started to thrust back and forth, like meeting the moves of an imaginary lover. Uggh. He felt his valve clench again, harder and longer, and keened as he overloaded. For a moment, he laid still, panting, vents overworking to cool down his frame, but he realized quickly in his fevered processor that the charge was still not dissipating, that he was still desperately aroused.

Bulkhead. Where was Bulkhead? Bulkhead could help, make the heat go away, pleasure him so much the heat wouldn’t matter anymore, his fevered CPU decided as Sentinel shakily rose from the berth, not caring about covering himself with a sheet -- who cared he was walking around with bare interface components anyway? He stumbled, fell down to his hands and knees, crawled, rose back, walked unsteadily while steadying himself with the wall. The stairs were a supplice, and he was kinda surprised, in the small part of his CPU which wasn’t entirely focused on rejoining Bulkhead and jump him, that he hadn’t just fallen down.

He literally crawled to the living room, Spark beating faster and valve clenching uncontrollably in rapid succession as he took sight of Bulkhead, leaning over two couches he had brought together in order to create a makeshift berth that still remained too little for him. The patchwork cover he had draped over him at the start of his recharge cycle had been tossed to the side and was still partially caught up around his legs, but his closed interface panel was clearly visible.

Sentinel whined as he approached and grabbed the edge of the couch to get to his knees, licking his dry lips as he leaned forward, intent at opening that panel and get to the marvellous, huge spike it hide. He pawed at the panel, strokes and kisses and licks that made Bulkhead shuffled in his recharge as his panel slowly opened, revealing his spike to the Prime, who mewled presently and immediately wrapped his hands around it, starting to kiss and lick it, hands roaming over the limp length in an attempt to have it raise. He needed it so badly in him!

“Uh? Sentinel? What… what are you doing?” the green mech said as he roused from recharge at the feeling of heat building up between his legs, surprised to find the Prime busily sucking on his spike.

Not that it wasn’t a pleasant and welcome surprise, far from it. But it was kinda… okay, really weird, given Sentinel hated interfacing with him. Okay, perhaps not ‘hated’, but strongly disliked it. That, and after the incident with the cap -- for which Bulkhead understood the anger, though it got on his CPU a bit that he was the only one blamed by the Prime; it wasn’t like he was the one who had failed the debriefing! -- the green mech knew that Sentinel wasn’t too keen about speaking to him, even less do something like… that! Why else was he recharging on the couch instead of the only berth? It was uncomfortable, and far too little for his frame, but he hoped it would sooth Sentinel over time.

He hadn’t thought the soothing thing would work so much, he mused and groaned as Sentinel worked over his spike. Wow, the Prime was really… ravenous he thought as the Prime’s glossa rubbed all over his rod!

Sentinel soon let go of the spike, though. Heat continued to pool between his thighs, and he craved sweet relief, and he craved it now! He deftly climbed in Bulkhead’s laps, mewling and rubbing his bare valve against the now proudly erected cable, already locking his arms around Bulkhead’s neck and trying to impale himself on his hard length. The Space Bridge Technician, thought pleasantly stunned, was very alarmed as well, and tried to shove Sentinel away.

“Sentinel? Sir? What are you doing? Are you feeling well?” He had to ask, he really had to ask, because as pleasing as it was and as much as he wanted a good frag, there was no way the Prime was in his normal state. No way at all! And if he wasn’t in his normal state and went back to being a… a sourpuss once it was over, then Bulkhead’s audi receptors were going to ring, again, and he’d rather not have that.

Sentinel mewled and keened in despair at being rejected. Why didn’t Bulkhead want him? He wanted his huge, perfectly crafted spike in his valve, now! He wanted the bigger mech to frag him! Lubricants kept dripping in large drops out of his valve, staining his thighs as he tried desperately to get himself down on the Space Bridge expert’s rod.

“Sentinel, please!” Bulkhead called out again, though with less force. Frag, it was just too tempting. He bite his lower lip, wondering if it was really okay to just… give in and take what was being offered, especially since it seemed the Prime wasn’t going to be deterred. Perhaps he should start an audio recording, just in case, as proof as it was Sentinel who came unto him and that he himself had done nothing wrong?

“Uhhh… F… Fra… frag me,” Sentinel managed to say as he tried once more to impale himself down on Bulkhead’s spike. “Frag me, it’s an order, soldier!” he managed to shout out as he finally managed to push himself down enough so that the tip of Bulkhead’s rod was starting to enter him. He moaned in delight as he felt his port start to stretch to accommodate the green mech’s girth.

Bulkhead blinked stupidly for a moment, processing the words, before a grin slowly spread across his face. “Right away, Sir.”

And with that, he stopped pushing Sentinel back and helped him settle down on his spike. Both mechs moaned as slowly, Bulkhead buried himself into the Prime, whose hold on him became stronger. Leaning forward, he kissed the green mech with passion, and after a moment of hesitation Bulkhead returned the kiss, as he started helping Sentinel move his hips back and forth, And making him move up and down, helping him ride his spike with frenzy. he’d have rather like a gentler, quieter pace, but Sentinel really seemed to be in a… hurry, to say the least. The Prime overloaded in a matter of cycles and still kept going, encouraging Bulkhead to take him harder.

With a growl, the larger mech lifted Sentinel off his spike entirely, deaf to the Prime’s sobs and pleads for him to continue, and made him lie down on the floor, where he pinned him down immediately before spreading the Prime’s legs and burying his spike inside him again. Sentinel’s legs swiftly bound himself around his waist, and the Prime started to moan for more, harder, faster.

Bulkhead was only too happy to comply, taking a rougher pace. If Sentinel wanted to be fragged, then Sentinel was going to frag him nice and long, just as he wanted.

The Prime was incredibly compliant and aroused, he mused later, and Sentinel overloaded for what seemed to be the fifth time, whereas Bulkhead had only to do so once, and now twice, as transfluids bursted out of his spike, Sentinel’s valve greedily milked out his fluids, walls clenching clenching and squeezing his length. With a grunt, he allowed himself to fall down on Sentinel, pinning him further to the floor under his weight. He let his spike slide out of Sentinel with a grunt, thinking it was more than enough, but the Prime made a keening sound and clung to him with more fervor than during their interface rounds, making small sounds of distress.

Bulkhead gently nuzzled and kissed him, stroking him everywhere in an attempt to calm him down and reassure him that he was getting nowhere. Still, Sentinel rolled his hips against him, silently begging to be filled again. Now, Bulkhead saw nothing too wrong with that, and at it been any other while, he would have jumped on the occasion and obeyed his former Drill Sergeant. He still had enough stamina for one more round.

However, he knew that Agri III’s sun would rise in less than two megacycles, and he needed rest in order to go and to harvest the Wire-Wheat field he had planned to reap today. Pondering what to do, he finally grinned as he had just the right idea. Out of subspace, he took out a plug he always kept here in case -- a bit stupid, he knew, given Sentinel didn’t want to interface or wear one when they were finished, and it wasn’t like the Prime was really trying to fall pregnant, Bulkhead knew about the contraceptives, but it wasn’t unusual for energon farmers to keep one on them if they ever had time to frag their Enduras in the middle of the solar-cycle and wanted additional chances to spark them.

The plug was a large one, though short, and he pressed it gently against Sentinel’s valve, making the Prime mewl a little as the tip pressed inside him. It slide easily in his stretched port and snuggly set in place, the Prime’s valve rippling around it, making the Prime keen more.

Bulkhead nuzzled him again. “It’s alright. I know you wanted more of my spike, but later, okay? Now we recharge,” he said softly as he grasped the patchwork cover abandoned on the couch and draped it over them, even as he hugged Sentinel closer to him and cuddled with him, the Prime burying his head against his chest, arms over his waist.

As he slipped into a nice, restful recharge, his systems shutting down as he listened to Sentinel’s engines peacefully rumbling against him, he wondered just what had happened to Sentinel to have him seek him out like that.

He also wondered, with some hope -- because the interface had been that amazing and slag, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed it in two decacycles --, if it would happen again…


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a happy event in Primus' Blessing! Granted, Sentinel might be too much into shock to consider it 'happy'...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter a bit shorter than usual today, but don't worry. Next one will be longer, I promise. :)

“Sentinel, dear? Are you feeling well?”

The blue mech blinked several times and turned his head toward Nightglow, who was watching him with a little worried frown.

“Uh… yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” he answered quietly and tried to concentrate on the embroideries he was making on a napkin. Yes, better concentrate on the needlework and stop thinking about the ache in his valve. But frag, it was so hard… Especially when the other mechs and femmes around him were speaking, once more about their respective Conjunx and their latest… prowesses in the berth.

“I’d say, we had such a nice night,” Mistcover sighed. “Auger prepared the bath and perfumed it with RubidiumRose petals, and he started to scrub me down, running his hands on my frame while he kissed me everywhere as we lounged in the tub. His spike felt so hard against my thighs, and he was so loving and caring when he took me,” he sighed again, with a little dreamy look. “We ended up staying a whole megacycle in the water before he decided to carry me out of the water and off to the berthroom to dry me and then resume our lovemaking.”

Furrow sighed happily. “Your Conjunx is so sweet, arranging a special night to celebrate your Bonding anniversary! I wish my Steelflail was as caring. I shouldn’t complain, though; he was very… generous with me these days,” he said goofily as the other chuckled.

On the other couches, Greenlight, Nightglow, Scythe, Apis and Roller all talked with animation as they worked. Sentinel paid them little mind. He didn’t need to know Nightglow and Farrier were trying very hard for that fourth sparkling they desired so much. He didn’t want to know about Lancer and the way she had her spike modified so she would have a ‘knot’, whatever it was. He didn’t want…

“... Three times last night alone,” Scythe said, giggling. “And you, Sentinel?” he inquired with a smile. “How is Bulkhead treating you?”

“Well, we did it five time last night-cycle,” he answered without thinking, before wincing for revealing so much. The other Enduras clapped and grinned happily at the news they were being such a ‘loving couple’. Roller, Apis, Greenlight and Nightglow exchanged a little knowing smile of their own that totally escaped Sentinel.

The Prime was too busy thinking about last night. And the night before that. And the one even before, and before… For almost a decacycle now, he kept waking up in the middle of the night -- eck, sometimes he wasn’t even asleep and it wasn’t the night proper -- with his body burning with need, and he sought out Bulkhead so they could frag until he felt better. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He was half-afraid he had caught some kind of virus, which was a possibility, or that he was becoming crazy. The virus lead seemed more plausible, but he couldn’t go and see Counterstep. He just… couldn’t. Because the Doctor would then have to scan him, and then he would probably discover the contraceptive chip, and then there would be questions better left uncovered.

He wasn’t about to confess to a bunch of interface-crazy mechas who seemingly lived to produce sparklings he had been on contraceptives ever since he had set a foot on the planet -- and thank Primus he had took so many with him. And damn Unicron for not having made enough stock for the duration of the mission, who was still going on for an unforeseen amount of time. Of course, he hadn’t know just how much the people around here swore by interfacing… nor how much his body seemed to crave it recently.

If it was a virus, he really hoped his systems would flush it out rapidly. These interface bouts with Bulkhead were starting to take a toll on him. He was getting quite tired. And he couldn’t even control himself, and that was the worse! Every fragging time, he just crawled to the couch Bulkhead slept on and begged to be faced, before losing whatever was left of his coherent thoughts with processor-blowing overloads. By the third night, he had allowed Bulkhead to come back and recharge on the berth -- it was easier for him when the craving for Bulkhead’s spike came than to take the stairs down and almost fall down every slagging time.

His only consolation were the influx of treats he kept receiving from the other Enduras, who either found him looking ‘sickly’ and hoped to cheer him up and make him feel better with Selenium-Strawberries tartlets and slices of Proto-Peaches cake, or wanted to thank him for… whatever. He wasn’t about to refuse free pastries, especially when they were so tasty. Bulkhead had told him, loudly, during a visit by Shock, who had come bearing a basket, that he should lower the doses and eat less treats everyday, but Sentinel shrugged it off. For once he didn’t have to cook by himself and could indulge in pastries he liked and had a hard time realizing alone, he wasn’t going to drop it.

Beside, with all their… nocturnal activities, it wasn’t as if he risked ‘taking weight’. Bulkhead rode him -- or he rode Bulkhead’s spike, depending -- for megacyles at time before his hunger for interfacing was abated. It left him so tired each time… and Bulkhead too at times. A couple of solar-cycles ago, his lust had been so strong that… Well, when Sentinel had awoken, he had found himself laying on Bulkhead’s front, his spike still in him, while the green mech was chained to the head of the berth by a pair of stasis-cuff Sentinel had brought with them just in case. Apparently, at some point, Bulkhead hadn’t wanted to ride him any longer, concerned by Sentinel’s actions and, in his crazed by lust processor, the Prime had just cuffed him before having his way with him.

It was really, really mortifying to realize, especially when he couldn’t deny it. To prove he wasn’t the one who initiated anything, Bulkhead always took audio recordings, which were… very explicit. Sentinel couldn’t even blame him… not really. When a mech kept coming at you and even cuffed you to frag you, then you could be hardly faulted to succomb to his advances.

And it was hardly a surprise his valve ached so much, he thought irritably as he shifted a bit in his seat and trying to focus again on his embroidery. Sentinel didn’t know how things would have been worse than they were.

Later, thinking back, he acknowledged he had really tempted fate with this one though, and really, what did Primus have against him?

Aside of the interface-life comments, the reunion was going fine, and Sentinel was progressing nicely along the crystal-leaf patterns he was making. Then Apis had put down her oil cube down, frowning, before moaning lowly, clutching her swollen abdomen.

“Apis?” Nightglow had asked, with a strange expression.

The lithe femme had gave him a shaky smile as everybody started to stare at her with the same expression, which puzzled Sentinel until she spoke. “I… I think it’s time. My bitlet is ready to come out,” she said with a fond smile.

Sentinel’s jaw dropped. Everybody else cheered and jumped into action. “Berth, immediately!” Nightglow barked sharply, very much like an Autobot commander talking to his troops -- and Sentinel almost saluted. “Roller, Scythe, help her join the berthroom, she won’t be able to climb the stairs alone! Greenlight, go seek Cultivator immediately, he’ll want to be here! You should find him by the river fields, he was supposed to help Auger with setting up a new fence -- unless I’m mistaken, Mistocover? No? Then the river fields, immediately! Furrow, go to see if Doctor Counterstep is around, and if he’s available, bring him here immediately. Mistcover, you go to the Temple alert the priests, they’ll want to know and offer blessing as soon as the sparkling is born! Oh, and if you could go to Breezy Heights and alert Mellifler, Bolter, Darkbee and Leafcutter that their new sibling is coming and they should come too, you’d be a dear,” he added as an afterthought, glancing fondly at Apis, who smiled back.

“They’ll want,” she assured as she grimaced a bit, a contraction going through her. “Leafcutter was pretty excited about not being the youngest anymore, he’ll want to come running the moment he knows.”

“Don’t worry about anything but having your sparkling, dear,” Scythe said as he gently helped the femme rise from the couch. “We’ll take care of everything.”

There were sharp nods as everybody scrambled in action. Greenlight, Furrow and Mistcover all disrobed -- which startled Sentinel for some reason; perhaps because he had never seen them do that, and that he hadn’t wanted to look at their bare interface components, at all! But as they rushed outside and transformed, driving away as fast as they could, he understood why.

Farmers didn’t use altmodes out of their fields, for work, except for emergencies. Enduras used them even less, especially since transforming forced them to remove their dresses and panties and as such, let them completely exposed. Apparently, the birth of a sparkling was an emergency enough to have them go running and forget about convenience.

“Sentinel? Could you please get to the bathroom and bring us towels?” Nightglow asked as he followed Apis and the other to the second floor.

The Prime blinked stupidly for a klik. Were they really asking for his help? Shaking his head, in a daze, he followed suit and went to the bathroom, which stood at the end of the corridor. Opening the various closets, he frowned. What was he supposed to bring exactly. Nightglow had said towels, but not how many, and he hadn’t even said why. Shrugging, he grabbed two small ones before rejoining the main berthroom, where Nightglow, Scythe and Roller had laid Apis in. The Femme had also been disrobed, letting the Prime have a good view of her valve, and it made him jerk back in shock, optics wide and jaw slack.

The femme’s valve was… dilated was the best word he could come with. The calipers forming the edge were spiraling wide open, and clear fluids that didn’t look like lubricants rushed out as Apis made a pained whimper.

“Sentinel? You got the towels?” Nightglow asked from his seat at the edge of the berth. Wordlessly, still hypnotized by the spectacle, Sentinel handed up the two towels he had brought. Nightglow blinked. “No, no. We need more, dear. Many more. And big ones, too. Don’t you kn…” He interrupted himself, seemingly remembering something. “Sentinel… is this the first time you assist to a sparkling’s emergence?”

Dumbly, Sentinel nodded. “Uh… yes,” he managed to squeak out, weirded out by the way Apis’ calipers kept spiralling. He squeaked once more when he saw Scythe casually put his finger’s to Apis while, muttering lowly, seeming to measure the gap.

“You’re dilating fast, it’s a good sign. It means he’s coming fast,” the mech said with a nod. “You’ll be able to hold him in your arms before the megacycle is over,” he said to Apis fondly.

The Femme had a light chuckle between two shudders caused by her contractions. “It’s my fifth, I think I know it by now, Scythe.”

Oh, he wasn’t feeling so well, Sentinel thought, light-headed. Nightglow reached out for him and patted his hand gently. “It’s alright, dear, I know it can be very overwhelming the first time. Go seek more towels, okay? We’ll need them before soon,” he added as he glanced at Roller, who was using the two towels brought by the Prime to clear the liquid rushing out of Apis’ valve.

Like a somnambule, the Prime did as he was told. When in doubt, always listen to order, his CPU kept telling him. Orders were safe. Focusing on orders meant you weren’t thinking about other things, like dilating valves and unknown fluids and gasps of pain and oh, by the Allspark, he didn’t want to remember the few lessons he had had as a young mech on sparklings emergence and how the process went through.

When he came back, Apis was wailing in more obvious pain, Scythe and Nightglow were holding her hands, and Roller was busy cleaning her up as well as he could with the already soaked towels. As soon as he caught sight of Sentinel, he jumped to his feet and run to him.

“Sentinel, replace me, I need to go seek out other items,” he said, running out of the room before the Prime’s CPU had a chance to caught up with and analyze the info, and before he even had a chance to protest. Somnambule was fine. He walked to the berth with slow steps that could have belonged to an old, rusty drone and, mechanically, he started to wipe at Apis’ valve without looking at him -- or at least, trying not to look at it. It was damn ugly and incredibly obscene, a small part of his CPU noted.

He wasn’t having sparklings like that, ever, that same CPU’s part whispered, and the rest of Sentinel’s processor agreed loudly.

there was the sound of running through the stairs, and Cultivator’s hulking frame appeared in the doorway, the mech panting as if he had run or drove at full speed -- which he probably did, Sentinel realized somehow.

The other Enduras welcomed him with quiet words as he entered the room and came to kneel at Apis’ side, Nightglow letting him his place with a smile and a nod.

“Are you alright, Love?” he rumbled. His Endura gave him a small, shaking smile.

“I’m well, Beloved. He’s coming. He’s so close,” she moaned in pain as another contraction hit her, and Cultivator grasped her hand with more strength. “Our sparklings…?” she asked.

“Downstair with Roller and Mistcover and everyone, my Love,” Cultivator said, gently kissing her on the forehead.

Oh, good news, Sentinel thought dazedly. That meant he would be able to get out and give his place to someone else… like Counterstep. Wait, where was the Doctor, anyway? He must have asked that aloud, because Greenlight, who had come back with Cultivator, answered easily.

“He wasn’t at home, sadly, he was visiting Pollen for a check-up, or so Sterling told me when I came across him on the road; I transmitted the info to Furrow so he would head to Fruitful Orchard immediately, but given how far it is from here and how quickly that sparkling is coming along, I’d say he’d have emerged before he get here.

Oh, that wasn’t good, Sentinel thought as black spots started to dance in front of his optics. Was he about to crash?

“Don’t worry, Sentinel,” Nightglow was talking to him, he realized with a startle. “It isn’t Apis' first and it is an easy emergence, his presence wasn’t strictly necessary after all.”

It wasn’t? If they said so. He was still cleaning Apis’ valve, he noted distractedly, and almost all the towels were stained. A hand was put over his. “You can stop now, Sentinel. The sparkling’s head is starting to enter the expulsion canal; it’ll reach the valve quickly after that. Keep the rest of the towels for when the sparkling is out.

Out? Oh, right, the sparkling was coming out from his Carrier’s valve. How silly of him not to have thought about it… or to have forgotten… And he was thinking he was probably in shock and it wasn’t good, was it?

“Oh dear, he’s so pale… Greenlight, can you take him away and make him sit? And perhaps go to get him an half-cube of crystalberries wine?... Yes, thank you. Sentinel? Sentinel, you’re with us?”

Sentinel blinked and looked at Nightglow, who was looking at him worriedly. He nodded simply. He was here, wasn’t he?

Then Apis started screaming, and Scythe was telling “The head is coming down! He’s coming!” and then, he just… shut down.

He came back to his sense, it was to realize he was sipping fuel from a cube pressed to his lips. Greenlight hung in his vision, looking at him with an half-worried, half-amused expression. Apis had stopped screaming, and there was someone or something making noises. Crying noises, he realized belatedly.

“Feeling better?” Greenlight asked him as she took the cube back.

Sentinel swallowed. “Y… Yes.” He was feeling better… wasn’t he? Why wouldn’t he have felt fine anyway? “What… what just happened?”

“Processor got caught in a loop, I guess,” Greenlight shrugged. “You scared us a little.”

“Ah, uh… sorry?” he offered.

Greenlight smiled. “It’s alright. Nightglow told us it was the first time you witnessed an emergence. I guess we weren’t much more prepared ourselves when it happened the first time. Though I don’t think we had it as bad as you,” she teased.

Sentinel tried to smile, but it came out as a rictus. Ah, ah. Very funny. He wasn’t fond of sparklings before, but now, he had new reasons to not be. Who in his right mind went through such a process when the Allspark could give you a bitlet without… without the fluids… and the pain… and the body dilatation… and the crying?

Though the crying didn’t come from Apis, his CPU finally realized. Turning his head, he looked over to the berth. Someone had pushed a sheet over Apis’ body, covering her to the waist and hiding her valve from prying optics. The Femme was laying half-seated against large pillows, and her mate had an arm around her shoulders. He was smiling proudly. Both Apis and Cultivator were cooing at a bundle in Apis’ arms. The sparkling had been cleaned up and wrapped in a clean towel, and Sentinel only caught a glimpse of a little silver face and brown helm before he saw something else that made his processor almost reboot on the spot.

Apis’ chestplates were parted. The strange thing was, one couldn’t see her spark chamber, but instead, there were two… things on her chest, which looked like empty pouches that were slowly filling themselves with bright pink energon. The sparkling was crying even as his Carrier rocked him.

“Hush, hush, my little Seedleaf,” Apis cooed. “Carrier is getting your energon ready.”

She pressed the newly born sparkling against her chest, Cultivator guiding a strange thing -- it looked like a miniature hose -- that sat in the middle of the now glowing-pink, round pounch, toward the sparkling’s face. The whiny little things immediately stopped crying as it latched on the hose and started to… make suction noises.

“Wh…?” Sentinel managed, seeing new black spots before his optics. He wasn’t going to get his processor in a loop again, was he?

“Never saw a mech breastfeed his newly born creation before?” Greenlight asked kindly. “That’s pretty common, though. Cybertronians don’t do that? It’s the best way to give your bitlet sparkling-grade energon.”

Sentinel shook his head mutely. “... I thought it was the ChronoCows who gave sparkling-grade energon?” he asked, feeling strangely faint and detached from everything.

“They do.” It was Nightglow’s voice, coming from somewhere near him. Oh, wait, he was sitting next to him on the floor, Sentinel had just not noticed before. “But all mechs and femmes have an internal way to produce sparkling-grade energon to feed newly born bitlets they just carried. It is even better for the bornlings than ChronoCows energon-milk, because the Carrier can transmit firewalls and nanites to his creation by breastfeeding him or her. ChronoCows are for older sparklings or Carriers who don’t produce enough sparkling-grade energon on their own,” the ever patient voice explained.

“Oh, it is?” Sentinel asked faintly, still feeling like he was dreaming, watching everything like a casual observer. He was pretty sure he didn’t have… an internal system like that. Did he? He’d need to check it out. Have it removed. Creepy thing. He would never use that. Nope, nope, not ever, Sir!

“Sentinel?... Oh dear, I think he’s going under again…”

And with that, everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone ask, no, Sentinel hasn't realized he keeps getting drugged. And he won't realize it for a while... if ever. He's not good at picking up clues, really. ^^;


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentinel and Bulkhead receive visits...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long chapter today, as promised. Enjoy! :)

“Do you really think we should come in? I mean, Roller said he saw them coming back to the farm with other people in the cart. If they have guests, we may only hinder…”

Nightglow looked briefly at Pollen, who was walking beside him on the dirt path to Shady Acres. “You may be right, but I really need to give this back to Sentinel,” he said, showing the basket he was holding, full of half-finished napkins. After the… fainting spell that overcame Sentinel at little Seedleaf’s emergence, the first priority they had had was to make sure the blue mech got back home with his Conjunx quickly so he could rest. And in the precipitation, and with the tiny sparkling to focus on as well, they hadn’t thought to give Sentinel his things back.

That was why, three solar-cycles later, Nightglow had volunteered to go to Shady Acres, Pollen following him as he claimed he ‘needed to walk a bit’ as he was becoming restless and Counterstep had advised against heavy farm work.

“Besides…” Nightglow paused. “Call me curious, but I really wish to get a look at their guests. We don’t get to see many strangers or outsiders around here, and… well, I was kinda hoping… wouldn’t it be nice if we had new neighbors?”

Pollen hummed. “It would,” he allowed. “But I don’t think these mechs are farmers folks. From Roller’s description, they looked like core worlds citizen. Friends of Bulkhead or Sentinel, probably. It’s doubtful they’d come to live here.”

Nightglow sighed. “Yes, probably. But it would be nice to meet them, don’t you think?”

Pollen shrugged and focused on the walk, trying not to trip and stumbled on the inegal ground.

By the time they reached Shady Acres, it was obvious there were guests inside. There were a buzzing sound of conversation, though it was impossible to pick up the words. Quietly, the two Endura walked under the veranda and knocked at the door. Conversation inside immediately stopped, and they heard whispers before someone walked to open the door.

Bulkhead passed his head outside with a frown that changed into an hesitant smile as he recognized them. “Oh, Nightglow, Pollen! Good day to you two. Is there a problem?” he asked, not fully opening the door.

“Oh no, no problem at all,” Nightglow said with a smile. “Simply, we’ve come to give Sentinel his needleworks’ back, and take some of news. Is he feeling better yet?”

“Uh… Yes, yes. He’s perfectly fine,” Bulkhead said, though he sounded a bit preoccupied. Nightglow and Pollen exchanged a look. Was Bulkhead lying to them? Was Sentinel still sick, perhaps? Or… was he experimenting the first symptoms of a gestation cycle, and Bulkhead refused to say so until they knew for sure? If so, it would be marvellous! A sparkling would be just the thing for Sentinel to finally, completely settled down in Primus’ Blessing. He would make such a good Carrier, Nightglow was sure! And Bulkhead such a wonderful Sire! It was obvious the mech desired many sparklings.

But he was probably just thinking too much, and making a lot out of nothing.

Bulkhead shuffled, seeming embarrassed about something. “Uh… would you care to come in? For a cube of oil?”

Pollen and Nightglow looked at each other before nodding in agreement, politely thanking Sentinel’s Conjunx for his offer as they entered. It was obvious their presence fell at a wrong time, but Bulkhead was trying so hard to be hospitable and nice to them anyway, they couldn’t refuse his offer. Besides, they were indeed growing very curious about their mysterious guests.

The mysterious guests in questions were… not quite what they had expected. When they entered the living room, they found them sitting on a couch, facing Sentinel, who looked pretty disgruntled and sour about something. Strange, given the strangers had to be friends. They were three in total. A small, yellow mech with a large grin who looked at Sentinel with amused optics, a taller, thin blue mech with a large crest and a serious look, and a bigger mech still, matching Sentinel’s size, blue and red in color and who looked rather… tired and perhaps, just perhaps, a tad sad and distraught.

For some reason, it made Pollen feel suddenly very protective.

There was something about that one mech that just…tickled his protective instinct, as if the mech was one of his sparklings… or one of the neighbors’ youngling who was feeling lost and scared.

All three looked at Pollen and Nightglow in polite interest, surprise and perhaps a tad of uneasiness, which made the two Enduras glance at each other. Had they interrupted a serious meeting? Were they… having some sort of argument? Was it why Sentinel seemed so… so grumpy?

“Uh, Pollen, Nightglow, I’d like you to meet some friends of us who came to visit. Guys, those are Goodwives Pollen and Nightglow, Enduras to Huller and Farrier. Pollen, Nightglow, our buddies. There is, uh, there is Bumblebee” the small yellow mech waved cheerfully with a ‘hey there, how do you do?’ “and Optimus, who are old co-workers.” The blue and red mech gave them a thin smile and a nod. “We were members of the same Repair Crew,” Bulkhead explained. “And, ah, that’s Blurr…” he trailed off, showing the last member of the trio.

“I’m an old friend of Sentinel,” the blue, lithe mech said smoothly with a bow in their direction. Such a polite mech, Pollen thought. “We worked together for the Autobot administration on Cybertron. And,” he said as he threw an arm around Bumblebee’s shoulders, “I’m trying to court the adorable mech you see here,” he said with an half-smile. Bumblebee squeaked while Optimus and Sentinel coughed nervously.

Pollen and Nightglow just beamed.

“How wonderful! How far along are you in the process?” Nightglow asked as he sat down on a nearby chair.

“Not very, I’m afraid,” Blurr said as he sipped some oil and squeezed a flushing Bumblebee’s hand. “It’s a rather… recent event.” He smiled at the two Enduras charmingly. His Intended just seemed very put off by Blurr’s comment.

“Uh, yeah, very, very recent,” the yellow mech said. “A real surprise. Hadn’t expected that at all,” he babbled, optics wide.

“Is that so?” Pollen inquired politely as he was helped to sit down on the couch by Optimus, right next to him. The red and blue mech was looking at his swollen abdomen in puzzlement, but with a very soft smile on his lips that was really endearing.

Blurr chuckled. “Well, I might have surprised him in asking to court him. We had only briefly met, as I was on a… mission to deliver personal messages to Optimus’ team, so we didn’t exactly spend much time together at once, but I found myself… very attracted to this charming mech, and I’ve told myself, ‘well, why not?’” he said rather fastly, kissing Bumblebee’s hand, and the yellow mech squeaked again.

Nightglow chuckled. So timid a mech! He looked approvingly at Blurr and gave Bumblebee an amused smile. It seemed clear to him Bumblebee was still a young mech unsure about Bonding, or even dating for that matter, while Blurr seemed to know what he wanted. All in one, they could make a good couple. There was obviously lot of love here, though perhaps Bumblebee was still too immature to see it. A proper courtship, which could last for several stellar-cycles before a couple became engaged, would probably very beneficial to the young yellow mech. Even if, by the end of it, he decided against taking Blurr as future Conjunx (for it was clear to see Blurr was a future Conjunx in a relationship), the experience would certainly help him grow up.

Sentinel rumbled. “Well, I think you could find someone better… suited for you,” Sentinel said, looking rather sour. Nightglow and Pollen exchanged a look. Were there bad feelings between Bumblebee and Sentinel? It seemed unlikely; Sentinel was such a nice mech usually! However, they had to acknowledge they didn’t know if the two had a prior history. They must had known each other through Bulkhead, but who knew what relationship they had had until now? Hmm… perhaps it was a case of protectiveness or unrequited love? Perhaps young Bumblebee had had feeling for Bulkhead and had been distraught he had ended up choosing Sentinel? Or perhaps was he a very concerned friend, who thought nobody was good enough for his best pal?

There had been case like that in the past. Why, Tiller had had many suitors who had been distraught by his choice of Bonding with Quarterstaff. Most of them had Bonded to other mechs or femmes and left town, but some had swore off they would never Bond if they couldn’t have the one they wanted. Claymate was still celibate due to such a wish. And when Brimstone had chosen to court and Bond to Shock, two of Shock’s siblings had been very set against the union, though they had come around in the end.

Bumblebee looked sore at the remark. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m a great mech, just ask anyone who isn’t you!”

“Bumblebee! That’s enough!” Optimus cut out sharply, giving Pollen and Nightglow an embarrassed smile and looking apologetic toward Sentinel. “Please, excuse him Sentinel. I’m afraid Bumblebee is a bit… jumpy lately,” he said with a warning glance at the yellow mech, who sagged and pouted.

Sentinel snorted. “Right. You would know about it, wouldn’t you, Optimus?” There was something he pronounced the other mech’s name… It wasn’t quite hatred, but there was a lot of tension in the room, suddenly, the two Enduras noticed, trying not to fidget as they exchanged another look.

Optimus sighed. “Please, Sentinel. We… I’d just like to spend a pleasant moment. We haven’t seen each other in orbital cycles, and I had hoped we could spend it without snipping at each other. Please?” The way he looked at Bulkhead clearly let understand he had mostly come to see Bulkhead, not Sentinel. Still, at the same time, the pleading sounded sincere, and there was something in his voice as well… exasperation, true, but the kind that was born from having to frequently butt head with someone stubborn.

It reminded Pollen of Baler and Scythe’s two eldest creations, who were known to have a sort of love/hate relationship. It also reminded him of Dewdrop and her eldest, Nectarbead, as she was growing up. The young femme had always been an adventurous one, who was never happy with staying somewhere, staying safe and obeyding her Carrier. It didn’t help that her Sire considered her antics fondly and let her get away with almost anything. Dewdrop had had the same voice when talking with her rebellious creations sometimes: strained love and concern, which still existed nonetheless. Over time, they had mended their relationship, of course, but there had been tense moments.

And then, it also reminded Nightglow of Wildcall, Rookwall and Lifespring’s oldest, and Canker, Brimstone and Shock’s youngest. The two had been self-proclaimed ‘Best Friends Forever’ since they could walk and had been pretty much inseparable. Then Wildcall, who was as fond of mechanimals as his Carrier, even of the pests, had surprised his friend throwing stones at an injured Turbofox to amuse himself. The youngling had threw a tantrum, hit his friend and swore off their friendship. Cranker had been a sorry little mech after this, and had begged for forgiveness, but Wildcall had remained inflexible so far. He had been seriously hurt by Cranker’s actions and refused to just forget and forgive, though the adults all thought it was just a matter of time before the two made up.

The way Sentinel was looking at Optimus was like an adult-version of the glare Wildcall gave his friend, and it made Nightglow pause.

What could have happened between these two mechs for such a nice mech as Sentinel to be so hostile toward Optimus, who looked like a very nice person himself?

Bulkhead’s Endura sneered but ended up nodding. “Right. I suppose if some person makes an effort to be polite, then I can too.” He looked pointedly at Bumblebee as he spoke, and the yellow mech groused, though he held his glossa as Optimus looked at him sharply and Blurr squeezed his hand with a warning glance.

“Uh, who wants a Copper-Cookie?” Bulkhead loudly proposed as he passed the plate around for everyone to pick one. It should have been Sentinel’s job, but it was obvious the blue mech was still reeling, and that Bulkhead hoped to appease everyone.

Nightglow and Pollen took one each with large smiles and compliments to Sentinel, who puffed a bit. It always pleased him to have his work acknowledged.

Bumblebee paused as he took one. “Wow, it’s seriously Sentinel who made them? Didn’t think he could do something like that…”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Sentinel asked warningly.

“Uh, just that, uh… I… uh, didn’t know you knew how to make energon treats?” the yellow mech said nervously; “They'rereallygoodbytheway,” he said quickly as he bite in several.

Sentinel snorted but didn’t comment, opting himself to sip at an oil cube. The room lapsed in comfortable silence for a moment, and the tension decreased. Good. 

Bumblebee didn’t seem like a bad mech, but he was obviously rash and, if not uncaring, unable to truly grasp other people emotions. Yes, truly a youngling in need of better social skills, Nightglow mused. He hoped it was something his courtship by Blurr would be able to change. 

Optimus, on the other hand, gave him the impression of… of an officer or an elder who was fighting to put up with too much weight on his shoulders. Someone who spend so much time managing and calming down tensions between people he didn’t have time for himself anymore. He would have greatly benefited from having someone caring for him… someone to take the lead instead of him. Why, he looked like someone who needed to settle down and found a family! The way he kept looking at Pollen, or rather at his abdomen, in obvious awe, was very telling. 

This one should leave the Autobots, the darkly colored mech decided, and find himself a nice mech to settle with. Hmm, perhaps he should ask Bulkhead if Optimus had someone later. And if he hadn’t… perhaps he could encourage the mech to come visit and see if there wasn’t someone available in the area. Farrier had a younger, unbonded sibling who was still searching for a mate, and Sterling had a cousin who was a widower with two sparklings and who wouldn’t have minded finding them a step-Carrier. There was also Threasher, but there were rumors he was starting to eye Panacea, Counterstep and Sterling’s oldest, a young Femme who worked as Nurse for her Sire, so Nightglow hesitated to include him on the list. 

Of course, if he already had feelings for someone or if he was being courted, it would be for moot. He so needed to talk to Bulkhead about it... 

“So… did you come for something special?” Bulkhead asked, seeing no one was saying anything. 

Nightglow blinked. “Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten,” he said as he handed the basket he had kept on his laps to Sentine!. “Here, dear. You had forgotten it at Mill Stream the other day. With the excitation over little Seedleaf’s emergence and work at the farm, I hadn’t been able to come before.” 

Sentinel nodded grimly. “That’s okay. I hadn’t realized I had forgotten them.” 

Nightglow frowned. “Is that so? Do you have other needleworks going you haven’t told us about?” he enquired politely, for he knew very well Sentinel’s projects and current works, and most of them were in the basket he had just given him back. As sewing was normally taking a good part of an Endura’s time, either Sentinel had another project he hadn’t brought to the reunions before or… he had been ‘distracted’. While they had lowered the doses of aphrodisiac they slipped in the treats they handed him, they knew Sentinel was still… gourmand. This meant he must still have been pretty ‘enthusiastic’ with his Conjunx. Oh, perhaps he would have a bitlet soon! It would be marvelous! 

Sentinel looked slightly embarrassed. “Ah, uh, well… I was… I was studying patterns… for… for sparklings thermal blankets!” he blurted out. Nightglow’s Spark beat faster; was it possible? “I, uh… I thought it could be… yes, that it could be a good gift for Apis! Yes, for Apis, what’s with Seedleaf being here now,” he said quickly. Nightglow deflated. Oh, well… it was still very nice of Sentinel to think about it. 

Bumblebee seemed pretty amused. “You SEW, Sentinel?” he asked with mirth. “Why, I didn’t know you knew how to do that either!” 

Pollen frowned at the younger ‘bot. “As it happens, yes, Sentinel know how to sew. He’s doing a very fine job learning everything about being a good Endura. He’s very dutiful to his Bonded, and we’re very proud of him,” the carrying mech said, lips thin as he gave Bumblebee a cold look. It really wasn’t nice of him to try and tease poor Sentinel, who was trying so hard to be a good Endura and was managing so well! Nightglow and him didn’t know much about how Cybertron couples actually worked, but really, Bumblebee ought to be nicer and less callous in his comments, especially to the Bonded of his friend, approval of their Bonding or not. They certainly weren’t the only ones to think so, judging by the looks on Blurr and Optimus’ faces. Sentinel himself was really red in the face, probably flustered by his compliments, but he merited them; he was indeed very dutiful, even if he had to be… ‘helped along’ to fulfill some of his duties. Not that either of them seemed to dislike it. 

Bulkhead even rumbled. “Bumblebee, I want you to give my mate your excuses,” he warned in a low voice that actually seemed to surprise every newcomers. Pollen wondered why; perhaps until now, Bulkhead hadn’t had to try and defend Sentinel’s honor? Either Bulkhead had been more patient until now, or nobody had ever been so discourteous with his Bonded. Then again, there were mechs who reacted less severely to an offense made to their Intended than to an offense made to their Bonded. Perhaps Bulkhead was like that? 

Bumblebee raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry. That’s alright?” he asked. There were looks, but nobody protested anymore, though Sentinel seemed to be seething. Obviously, he wasn’t satisfied with the rather pale excuses. However, Bulkhead put a hand over his own and gave him a look, seeming to silently ask him to let the matter go, so long they had other guests present. It was very nice of him, Pollen acknowledged. There was really a lot of tension between these five mechs, and he dearly hoped it would ease. 

Optimus fidgeted a bit in his seat. “Ah, uh… you… you mentioned a recent sparkling’s emergence,” he said, nervously. “Is yours…?” he trailed off, unsure, as he looked at Pollen’s swollen abdomen. 

Ah, so cute, Pollen thought and chuckled. “Oh, no, no, it isn’t quite for now,” he said gently to the other mech. “I’ve about… two orbital cycles left,” he said after thinking back about what Counterstep had told him. “Little one isn’t ready to go out just yet,” he said fondly as he caressed his abdomen through his dress. 

“Oh,” Optimus said, flustered. “It must be… Ah… how does it…? I mean, what does…?” he tried to say several times without managed to formulate a full question. 

Fortunately, Pollen caught it easily. “How does it feel to carry a sparkling?” he asked gently, and Optimus nodded, cheeks red. Pollen smiled. “It feels… wonderful. You know it’s here, inside you, warmth and safe, and that it is part of you and part of your Bonded, the greatest gift and proof of love one can give its mate. Feeling him kick, showing he’s alive… Feeling him grow… feeling his systems work in perfect synchronisation with yours… knowing his little Spark is developing, almost strong enough to finally allow him out… It’s probably one of most incredible thing a mech can experience,” he said softly. Optimus looked almost hypnotized by his words, hanging to his lips and glancing every now and then to the hidden bulge. Pollen titled his head to the side, pondering. “Would you like to feel him?” 

Optimus blinked. “What?” He seemed to realize what he was being offered and flustered. “Oh, no, no, I can’t, it’s not…” 

“Nonsense, dear,” Pollen insisted as he forcefully took Optimus’ hand and put it over his abdomen. The other mech just froze as he felt movement under his hand. Little one wasn’t very agitated today, but he was turning often, and Pollen could feel it well. And now, he could share it with someone who seemed genuinely interested. The look of utter amazement, awe and the softness on Optimus’ face was very rewarding. 

He would make a very good Carrier, Pollen decided as he watched him. “Are you planning to have sparklings of your own, Optimus?” he enquired softly. 

The other mech startled. “Ah… I… I had considered the idea, once, but… well, I’m a working mech with little time for anything else,” he said, almost regretfully. “And… I haven’t find the right person yet.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Pollen said. “Who knows, perhaps you have already met him or her?” Optimus seemed taken aback and blushed slightly. Hmm, interesting. Perhaps Optimus had indeed someone in his life he’d like to have as mate, but hadn’t dared to let him know? He’d have to ask Bulkhead later, he decided. 

For now, it was probably high time they left. It was very clear to him that, curiosity about Sentinel and Bulkhead’s guests or not, they weren’t coming at a right time. Whatever was going on between the five of them, tensions and everything, seemed to have been brewing for some time, and some steam needed to blow, he guessed. And it couldn’t decently happen with everyone walking on Robo-chickens’s metaleggs for the sake of the two persons in the room who were strangers to whatever argument was going on. 

Pollen could readily say he didn’t like the face Sentinel was making, as if the visit was some kind of torture. He supposed Bumblebee’s obvious… mischievousness was setting him on edge, and that whatever past he seemed to share with Optimus -- though nobody had said it, it seemed obvious to him that both mechs knew each other since long -- was also draining him of strength. 

Poor, poor Sentinel. Hopefully, Bulkhead would prove himself a good helper for him. 

Still, he decided, he’d get the story out of Bulkhead, if only to avoid blunders if the present day ever came up in conversation. 

He glanced at Nightglow, who nodded at him, and politely, the carrying mech turned toward Bulkhead to start hinting at their departure. 

********************************

Of all the mechs Blurr had to take with him, he had to take the Bumbler and his former best-buddy Optimus fragging Prime!

Sentinel silently seethed as Bulkhead accompanied Nightglow and Pollen to the door and wished them farewell. The two Enduras’ visit had been unwelcome, though Bulkhead had warned him it could happen; farmers didn’t consider themselves nosy, but the three Autobots were the first outside visit anyone received since long before their arrival -- said arrival wasn’t counting, since they had come to stay, and the merchants didn’t count either, as they were from the area. It was bound to make people curious, and Bulkhead seemed content enough there only had been two of them, with a ‘good’ reason to come by.

Though Sentinel would have rather like the sewing thing to stay secret.

He was already getting Pit from the Bumbler over the dress -- and he dearly hoped the little slagger wouldn’t learn about the missing panel and the panties, because if he did, Sentinel was ever to kill himself in shame or, better yet, kill the little yellow bug with extreme prejudice.

Already, the little clown was looking at him with suspicious mirth. “So… Should I call you Goodwife Sentinel? Since you wear a dress like the other two and they make you sound like such a ‘good wife’” he teased.

Sentinel’s fists clenched. He fragging hated that name. Coming from the townfolks, it was, if not alright, at least bearable, because they intended no disrespect. But coming from Bumblebee, it made him want to lunge over the table and rip the little nuisance’s vocalizer out.

He didn’t, though, and someone beat him to the punch. Optimus cuffed his subordinate over the helm with a disapproving look, even as the yellow mech yelped. “Hey! What was the big idea, Boss-Bot?”

“You were being inconsiderate,” Optimus answered.

“And if he hadn’t hit you, I would have done so myself,” Blurr commented as he gave him a look. “You do realize that your attitude makes Sentinel Prime and Bulkhead stand out in that small community? A visit from the outside is rare enough as it is. If we add outside tensions, then these people will start to wonder and getting nosy. It isn’t acceptable,” he said, optics narrowed as the yellow mech shuffled.

“Ok, ok, I get it. But come on, don’t you find that funny? Sentinel being Bulkhead’s housewife?” Sentinel twitched at that. Bumblebee didn’t noticed and continued. “By the way, what was the big deal with calling me your Intended?”

Blurr raised an optic ridge. “For one, receiving three celibate mechs would have been strange. Energon farmers rarely stay single and don’t expect mechs outside of their community to not be Bonded. They themselves get engaged to be Bonded rather young, though the actual Bonding can take vorns to happen. By telling them we’re engaged, we draw less attention to ourselves, or at least in their optics. Us walking together around the village, should we need to, will not be met with surprise or suspicion, nor gossip. It’ll be simply assumed we’re trying to spend time together instead of, say, plan something nefarious.”

“And that wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t, uh, engaged?” Optimus asked.

“No,” Bulkhead said as he came back to the room. “If you look around, you’ll see that younglings or young mechs and femmes in age to be courted are never less than three or four together at any given time -- and that’s without younger sparklings hanging around. It’s a…precaution of sort, if you will. Creators don’t exactly want their creations to, hum, have ‘accidents’.”

“‘Accidents’? What sort of ‘accidents’?” Bumblebee asked, troubled.

Bulkhead coughed. “Uh, unplanned carrying cycles.” Sentinel snorted in disbelief at that. Given the general attitude toward interfacing the people around here had, he didn’t think they would have been overly concerned about it. Bulkhead gave him a look as he continued speaking. “A sparkling out of wedlock, it’s… bad. A taboo. It just doesn’t happen. And nobody love the idea of having his creation rushed through a ‘shotgun Bonding’ with a stranger, and yes, before you ask, it’s usually what happens in cases like that. No the best way to start a marital life. That kinda why engagements usually start as soon as a pair want to court, and why they last so long,” he explained. “It is socially acceptable to carry your Intended’s sparkling before Bonding if an ‘accident’ happen. Mechlings can’t get engaged without approval by both their families, and it’s usually acknowledge by a ceremony at the Temple. That and, well, if you discover you’re finally not happy together by a certain point, you can break it off before being Bonded. There’s no way out of a Bonding, but Primus never said mechs had to stay ‘pure’ until their Bonding. Engagements are a failsafe.”

Bumblebee and Optimus looked stunned, Sentinel hardly cared since he had already guessed the gist of it, but Blurr nodded at Bulkhead’s words. “Very true. As I said,” he said to Bumblebee, “it gives us a better cover and give us a better excuse to come and visit -- Shady Acres, it that right? -- Sentinel Prime and Bulkhead at Shady Acres every few orbital cycles without raising too many questions.”

“I don’t see why they would have asked questions. Friends can come as they want, no?” Optimus pondered aloud. Sentinel thought the same thing, but held his glossa. There were always some aspects of farmers life he had never gotten the hang of and that only Bulkhead -- and Blurr, it seemed -- knew.

“Yes and no,” Bulkhead said, scratching his head. “It’s just… do you intend to present yourself as kin?” he asked Blurr, frowning.

“One could argue that Bumblebee is your adopted kin, given how close you two were since Bootcamp,” the Intelligence Agent pointed out. “Don’t you hold him closer than most of your own siblings?”

“Bulkhead has siblings?” Bumblebee muttered and Optimus shrugged, obviously not knowing anything about it. It certainly was new to Sentinel too; never before had the oaf mentioned having relatives, aside of the Uncle who truly owned Shady Acres… though he wasn’t that shocked. Since Bulkhead came from an energon farm, he necessarily had to have siblings.

“Well, I suppose so, though I’ve never stated it as such…” Bulkhead mumbled.

“Uh, translation? For those of us who feel lost?” Bumblebee said, raising a hand.

“Ah, sorry, little buddy,” Bulkhead said, scratching his head. “I… uh, well, in energon farmers communities, the progression of a courtship can be checked by close relatives, as to give them reassurance about how it is going. If I claim you as kin -- adopted brother, for example -- having Blurr and you come by every few orbital cycles will go over smoothly with the neighbors. I could claim you as kin too, Boss-bot,” he added for Optimus.

The Prime gave him a shaky smile. “It’s… very nice of you to propose, but I don’t think it’s necessary yet.” Blurr nodded calmly in approval and Bulkhead rumbled but let the matter go.

So it gave the yellow nuisance a logical and accepted reason to come and torment him? Sentinel gritted his teeth, silently seething, but held his glossa. Grabbing a cube, he started to drink to calm himself and avoid telling something he would regret.

“So…” Bumblebee said as he reached for a cube and started to sip it. “It’s just a convenient excuse for everyone?”

“Mainly,” Blurr allowed. “And it seemed as good as any moment to make my demand,” the speedster commented airily, making Bumblebee and Sentinel spit take.

“Wait, what?” Bumblebee asked in disbelief. He wasn’t the only one surprised.

“You.. you… Agent Blurr, you can’t be serious!” Sentinel sputtered. “You can’t really be…”

“In love with Bumblebee?” the light blue mech asked with an half-smile. “Well, I can’t be too sure yet, but I find him to be an interesting mech, Sentinel Prime. If his family allows it,” he said as he looked at Bulkhead than at Optimus, “then I’d like to give it a try. With your permission, of course.”

Optimus blinked, obviously stunned. “Uh, I… I don’t have a problem with it,” he said uncertainly. “Anyway,” he added quickly, “Bumblebee is old enough to chose by himself, I don’t have anything to say about his… relations.”

“Technically,” Sentinel heard himself said, “a Prime can have a word about his subordinates’ love life. And usually, it is: ‘don’t’.” He would know; he had been very strict about it with mechs under his command, especially Jetstorm and Jetfire. But to be honest, they hadn’t seemed to understand what he was talking about to begin with. As for Jazz… Jazz was a special case in himself.

Optimus sputtered. “I would never…!”

Bulkhead patted him gently on the shoulder. “We know you wouldn’t, Boss-Bot.” He looked at Blurr. “Don’t have a problem with that, so long Bumblebee agrees. You’ll have to check with Prowl and Ratchet too, and possibly Sari,” he added as an afterthought. “I’m sure they’d like to know.”

Blurr nodded seriously. “Noted. Now, if we tried to return to that debriefing?”

Oh, thank Primus -- and he really was starting to swear a lot by a God in which he had never believed much, wasn’t he? -- Sentinel thought dazedly. That conversation had started to become too weird for him, and he didn’t fancy getting his processor caught in yet another loop. He so didn’t want Counterstep and the Enduras fussing over him because he had had another ‘fainting spell’ and prescribe him all sort of remedies he was wary of.

He coughed to clear his vocalizer. “Yes, yes. So, as we were saying before we were interrupted, things are progressing rather… slowly,” Sentinel said, lips pursued. “Bulkhead here,” he gestured at the green mech dismissively, “insisted that we first work better on our cover, under the assumption that getting more… friendly with the locals would allow us to gather more intel and more sensitive infos than an awkward stranger could. Sadly, we’ve yet to see the result.” He hoped, kinda, that Blurr would rage at Bulkhead for their lack of progresses, but he didn’t.

Blurr nodded grimly, but there was approval in his optics. “Bulkhead is perfectly right. Any good Agent will tell you that by making yourself a respectable member of the community, you’ll get ’in the know’ of secrets not usually told to outsiders. Undercover is a work that requires patience.”

“Why have you chosen Sentinel, then?” Bumblebee blurted out before being cuffed yet again by a disapproving Optimus. “What did I say wrong?”

Sentinel wanted to sneer at him, but he mentally acknowledged it was hard for him to do. He was, indeed, not the best choice for an undercover mission… but not because he lacked patience! Had he lacked patience, he would have arrested the troublesome Minibot after the incident at Autoboot Camp, rather than simply firing him! No, Sentinel wasn’t the best choice for undercover because he had… better things to do than playing an energon farmer’s submissive mate and cook and clean and getting fragged everyday by a mech he was very crossed at.

Hum, speaking of getting fragged…

“Ah, uh… Agent Blurr?” he asked the light blue racer, who looked at him questioningly. “Do you have… you know?” he said quietly, throwing wary gazes at Optimus and Bumblebee. He so knew the little nuisance would say something inappropriate about it. As for Optimus… who knew what he would say?

Blurr’s optics shone. “Oh… Oh. You refer to the… special items you mentioned you wanted a supply of?” he said carefully, also eyeing the other mechs in the room warily. Sentinel nodded, hopeful. He was alright with speaking of any intel they wanted, progresses reports, charts, the townfolks, anything, but first, he needed to get these contraceptive chips. He didn’t have so many left anymore, and he did NOT want to end up carrying! Not after seeing how the sparkling got out of the Carrier’s body!

The Intelligence Agent coughed. “Well… I’m afraid there was a… small problem,” he said, giving Bumblebee a look. “I had… given the objects in question to someone else for safe-keeping, as my own luggage was already full. I had recommended that person to hide them well, but it seems his efforts were insufficient.” Sentinel’s Spark skipped a beat and almost sunk. Oh, please, no… don’t make it sound like what it was sounding…

Bumblebee blinked as Sentinel watched him with wide, blank optics. “Uh… could you stop looking at me like that? It’s creepy!” he shuddered. “Besides, how was I to know they would search my thing so thoroughly? And that they’d take these… contra-things chips away, saying it wasn’t allowed on the planet? What are they, anyway? he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Optimus choked, optics wide as he looked back and forth at Sentinel and Bulkhead, mouth opening and closing without a word managing to escape him as he mentally imagined things he hadn’t wanted to think about, ever. That, and the fact that Bumblebee had no idea about what a contraceptive chip was and what purpose it served. Actually, he supposed it was why Bulkhead was blinking and Blurr had a raised optic ridge, obviously surprised by the question.

Sentinel glared at him with all his might. “Don’t. You. Dare. Say. A. Word,” he warned his former best friend in a low voice.

His mind was spinning wildly. There would be no more contraceptives. His reserves were low, and he wouldn’t get reprovisioned until… the next ‘visit’ of Blurr. Which meant, he was going to be out of chips for… almost two orbital cycles. Which meant he had a bigger chance to get sparked by the big oaf, if their… their interface life continued like it was presently going. And given Sentinel was still having this weird nightly craving, it had little chance to change. Oh, of course, he could be perfectly fine; Cybertronians usually took hundred of vorns before they sparked. Except, they weren’t on Cybertron, they were on Agri III, where bots kept carrying bitlets and had huge families. There was a risk, and Sentinel didn’t like risk.

Oh Primus -- and frag, he should really stop saying that name! --, he didn’t want to get sparked! The temptation to strangle the Bumbler came back, stronger than before, but Bulkhead must have guessed the danger, for he caught Sentinel’s wrist and forcefully held him down, giving him a look.

“Calm,” he whispered to him. Sentinel almost snarled; how was he supposed to stay calm?! The worst was, Bulkhead was right; getting worked up now wouldn’t change anything. And he didn’t want to have a panic attack in front of Optimus; that would have to wait until they were gone.

Optimus closed his mouth and took a deep breath. “Right. Okay. No problem.”

“No, seriously? What are these contra-thing for?” Bumblebee asked again.

Bulkhead coughed. “Uh, perhaps it would be better if you asked Ratchet? I’m sure he’ll answer any question you have. And, speaking of Ratchet,” he added quickly as he saw Bumblebee pout and frown, obviously not wanting to have to ask the old medic for infos, “how is he? And Sari, is she doing well? And, for that matter, how… how is Prowl?” he asked more quietly.

Bumblebee and Optimus shared a look. “Ratchet is… fine,” Optimus finally said. “He… spends a lot of time with that Femme, Arcee.” There seemed to be disappointment in Optimus’ voice, and Bulkhead raised an optic ridge. Uh oh. “Sari is as well as one can except. She’s still discovering more about Cybertron and sharing her time between Earth and Cybertron. We’re still trying to keep Perceptor away from her,” he added. “As for Prowl… well, it’s still the same,” he just said, optics pained.

Bulkhead shuffled. “No… no progress?”

“He’s getting better,” Bumblebee insisted. “Sure, he can’t walk quite well yet, and he gets tired easily, and he’s often into recharge, but he’s getting better!”

Sentinel listened only with half and audio receptor as the three Repair Crew members talked quietly about their missing teammates and their tag-along organic (or part organic, it seemed) team mascot. Sentinel held little interest in the conversation. The medic usually got on his CPU, the organic was frankly disturbing, and the ninja… Well, he didn’t exactly dislike the Cyberninja -- for he certainly was the least annoying of Optimus’ team, even if his obvious interest in organics was creepy and worrisome. He held no special love for him either. His fate let him indifferent for the most part. Although, a part of him was intrigued by his mysterious survival, just like everyone.

From all account, Prowl should have been dead, and had actually been pronounced dead, so his survival had baffled Cybertron’s medical authorities. There had been talk of tests, until the whole Cyberninja Corps had put a foot down and downright threatened bodily harm should their youngest brother-in-arms be harmed in any way. Apparently, Prowl revealed status as the very last student taught by Master Yoketron and his newfound maitrise of the ‘Processor over Matter’ technique had a couple of fellow Cyberninjas gushing and frothing at the mouth. As far as Sentinel knew, the ninjabot had been transferred to the CyberDojo’s private ward and was kept protected and secure by the Corps. Even Ultra Magnus didn’t beneficiate from as many security measures.

“Sentinel? Care to elaborate on what you have learned so far on Primus’ Blessing inhabitants, what you have found that seem out of the ordinary, and what leads you intend to pursue?” Blurr asked him quietly as he nibbled on a Copper-Cookie.

Sentinel nodded. He could do it. Finally, something that would not make him feel like a complete idiot! A good, solid report to a… Blurr wasn’t a Superior Officer, but he was the mission handler, so he was as good as one until Sentinel got back to Cybertron. “First off, the village’s population is composed of about fifteen Bonded pairs, all with sparklings, as well as a couple of single mechs, mainly the priests…”

The actual report took a while, as Blurr asked for more details, and as they finished discussing their unimportant friends, Bulkhead, Optimus and Bumblebee joined him. Bulkhead kept adding details to Sentinel’s report, while Optimus and Bumblebee, just like Blurr, asked for other details or questioned what they heard in plain disbelief.

( _“Come on, seriously! It’s impossible to have so many sparklings… right?”_ )

Some other questions were more acceptable, but they irritated Sentinel. Blurr was very thorough in his questioning, which Sentinel grudgingly appreciated. However, he stayed pretty much neutral, not once showing he shared Sentinel’s feelings and suspicions over something.

( _Why do you think this mech is more suspicious than the others?”; “Hmm, are you sure that ‘Pollen’ and ‘Apis’ as well as their mates can be ruled out as spies?”; “Spindle, you say? I’ll check his records out… Hmm, yes, we keep records about all Guilds’ members through the Commonwealth, so we necessarily have infos on him.”_ )

On the whole, the meeting wasn’t… unproductive. Although it was obvious the pair had made no progresses, Sentinel was consoled when it became obvious the Intelligence Department had made no progresses either on their end. At the same time, it was frustrating, because it didn’t help Sentinel getting a target or objectives to fulfill. Their orders remained unchanged: continue settling him and playing the loving couple, with all it entailed (and Pit, he didn’t think he had ever seen Optimus look so red before while trying not to look at him or Bulkhead!) and continued investigating everything and everyone.

They had, so to speak, no constraints. Should they decided they needed to plant ‘bugs’ and hidden camera in their ‘fellow’ energon farmers’ house to gather proofs, the Intelligence Department would approve or cover for them. The only thing still enforced was the radio silence: no contact with Cybertron, unless Cybertron called them first.

“I trust the material we given you is still in good working order?”

Sentinel nodded. “Yes, though it has yet to pick anything.” It was frustrating, to say the least. The Decepticons hiding in the area had carefully covered their trails… unless they were already gone. But it was dubious, Blurr pointed out when Sentinel mentioned it.

“It it perfectly possible that the signal we caught came from undercover Agents who were reporting before the start of their mission, or who follow a pattern,” he pointed out. “As such, maybe another call will not be made for orbital cycles. We…investigated Long… Shockwave’s calls to Megatron,” he choked out, and Bumblebee squeezed his hand. “His reports to the Decepticons followed a rather spaced pattern, unless something very special or important came along, just as any Intelligence Agent does,” he explained, trying to keep his voice even.

“So that means the trackers we have in the fields are inefficient?” Sentinel asked, displeased.

“Not necessarily,” Blurr said soothingly. “They’ll be of use if anyone transmit a message. We can only hope that it will happen soon, but depending on how the Decepticons and their informants are working, we can’t be sure of anything. We just hope you’ll keep up the good work until we do.”

Bulkhead nodded quietly. “We’ll do, Blurr. You can count on us,” he promised. Sentinel nodded along. As if he wasn’t going to do his best so he could get away from this pitiful planet and even forget it existed!

Blurr rose to his feet, followed suit by Bumblebee and Optimus. “That said, gentlemechs, we need to go. The shuttle for Athenia is leaving FlowingRiver in four megacycles, and it’s the last until the next decacycle, and we first need to go to Riverbend for a first transport.”

Bumblebee shook his head. “So long and impractical! How come this place doesn’t have it’s own Space Bridge?”

Sentinel wondered that too. Although Agri III was rather… peaceful, it was still a planet very near the border of the Commonwealth. It would have made better sense for them to be equipped with a Space Bridge on the planet, rather than having to join the nearby Athenia for transport.

Blurr shrugged. “I don’t know. Who knows what the guy in charge of their installation was thinking? Well, come along, mechs. Sentinel Prime, Bulkhead, keep on the good work,” he said, saluting. Sentinel saluted back by reflex, just as Bulkhead hugged Bumblebee and gave Optimus a pat on the shoulder, which disequilibrated the red and blue mech.

Bumblebee grabbed a handful of the remaining Copper-Cookies, putting them into subspace. “What?” he said as everybody stared at him. “They’re good!” Sentinel wondered if he should feel flattered or mortally offended.

Blurr sighed and pinched his olfactive sensor. “I wonder if my superiors had to deal with that when I was that young,” he mumbled.

And with that, he left, followed by the other two Autobots, who looked a bit sorry of having to leave Bulkhead behind. Optimus shared a look with Sentinel, and he nodded at him, opening his mouth to say something before closing it and shrugging, leaving quietly. Sentinel frowned, wondered what that had been about. Well, no matter; whatever was going on in Optimus’ CPU didn’t concern him.

Turning toward Sentinel, Bulkhead looked at him, biting his lips.

“So… what, now?”

**********************************

“A dress? Can you believe it? A dress?” Bumblebee kept snickering as they waited for the shuttle that would take them to FlowingRiver, the main town on this side of the planet. “Oh man, I wish I took screen capture to show back on Cybertron!”

Funny, how a lot of the towns had names containing the word ‘river’: FlowingRiver, Riverbend, Riverfall,... Then again, it made sense, he supposed, for all main cities on the planet were up on either side of large rivers.

From what Blurr had told them, the energon farmers used them to effortlessly send their ‘mechanicrops’ up the capital, where Autobot-approved facilities would transform them into raw energon mix that would be send to Cybertron and neighboring planets, or would ship them as they were over to the planets of the Commonwealth who prefered mechanicrops over liquid fuel. There were, as such, lot of mechas in the cities with aquatic-friendly altmodes working on the docks. Blur had seemed to be quite friendly with some of them, and Bumblebee wondered if perhaps they were other Agents.

But… naw. What would be the point of sending Bulk and Grumpy Prime here if they had had already mechs in place?

Lounging comfortably in his seat in the waiting room -- and man, as it comfy! The spaceport might have been small, but it was well furnished! -- , the yellow Minibot kept chuckling. “Just wait until I say that to Sari! And Ratchet and Arcee and the Twins!”

In his seat across Bumblebee, legs crossed and optics dim, the Intelligence Agent raised his head and frowned. “I wouldn’t advise you to, Bumblebee,” he warned quietly.

“But why? It’s funny!” he said, whining. Even as he spoke, he took one of the Copper-Cookies he had taken at Bulkhead’s house out of subspace and bite in with gusto. Slag, these things were good! And they were even better to savor as he imagined Sentinel preparing them, in his pretty dress and cute little frilly apron, like the housewives he saw in a couple of old Earth shows Sari’s Dad had kept tapes of. He smiled goofily as he thought about it.

Blurr, however, wasn’t amused at all. “Sentinel Prime and Bulkhead’s location and whereabouts are strictly confidentials, for the sake of their mission’s success. If you mention a dress, then people will know they’re on an energon farm, and it is not acceptable.”

Optimus, who had stayed silent until now, coughed. “Blurr? Does… do all Energon farmers wear dresses?”

Blurr glanced at him. “Only the Endura, the one considered as the household keeper in a pair, does. But if you mean in a more global sense, then yes, all energon farmers’ communities in the Commonwealth do insist on ‘proper clothings’. As they’re about the only one who does, aside of some of the subcultural religious groups scattered through the Commonwealth, the simple mention of a mech in a dress is enough to link him to the energon farm. Has Bulkhead never mentioned it?”

Optimus shook his head. “No, never. He… never spoke much about the farms; we just knew he had grown up on one and had always wanted to be a Space Bridge Technician. Space Bridges were his favorite subject in conversation. That, and well, art, once we were on Earth,” he explained.

Blurr hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose he wouldn’t, if he hadn’t had the intention to going back to the farm. Even though he must have missed the life.”

Optimus didn’t say anything but fidgeted in his seat, obviously preoccupied. He glanced at the obvious Bumblebee, who was nibbling on yet another Copper-Cookie.

:: _What is bothering you, Optimus?_ :: Blurr commed him, noticing his unease and his reluctance to talk aloud.

:: _... just… stuff,_ :: he said. :: _I… these contraceptive chips Sentinel wanted? Does it… is it…?_ :: he couldn’t find the words.

:: _... do you ask because of what you saw in the field left of the road on our way back to Riverbend?_ :: the Intelligence Agent asked after a while, making Optimus gulp nervously. :: _Yes, I know you noticed… unlike Bumblebee, who was quite… oblivious,_ :: he said gently. :: _Is that what is perturbing you? The fact you caught a couple interfacing in the open?_ ::

:: _And it doesn’t bother you?_ :: Optimus asked, cheeks reddening a bit as he thought back about the scene. Truthfully, had he not seen Sentinel in a dress himself and had heard of the contraceptive chips, he might not have thought much about what he had seen. But the fact remained that he had glanced to the side, and caught sight of a mech behind a femme, the skirt of her dress apparently lifted, and though his audio receptors hadn’t caught up the noise, some or the gesture and the way the femme was gripping at that fence had been self-explaining.

And now, he couldn’t stop thinking about _Bulkhead_ and **Sentinel** doing the same thing!

He thought he rather had a right to feel slightly weirded out! And Bumblebee’s obvious humor at the situation wasn’t helping! Granted, the Minibot might not have totally understood what was going on; in fact, his processor was so hooked on Sentinel being humiliated by playing housewife that he probably hadn’t stopped one second to really think about what it implied.

Blurr rumbled. :: _Not as much as you would think. As an Agent, I was confronted to all sort of situations, and sorry, I can’t tell you more, it’s still classified. Just know that energon farmers are best known in some circles for their… loving ways,_ :: he put in diplomatically. :: _Sentinel’s request for contraceptives is founded. It is unfortunate I wasn’t able to really stress out how important they were to Bumblebee,_ :: he said as he glanced at the yellow mech.

Optimus gulped. :: _Is there a real risk of…?_ :: he trailed off, thinking about the carrying mech they had encountered, and how smooth the fabric had felt under his hand, and how… glowing the mech had seemed. He tried to imagine Sentinel like that, with Bulkhead as the Sire, and his mind just… blanked totally. There were things, he decided, that were impossible to imagine. Except, if Blurr had agreed for a supply of contraceptives, then it mustn’t have been out of the possibilities.

Optimus didn’t know much about undercover assignments, but he had read datafiles and seen holovids as a youngling, where undercover agents went all the way to construct a family unit just so they were above suspicion. Was Intelligence considering it might happen here?

Blurr hummed. :: _I won’t say there isn’t a risk,_ :: he allowed. :: _But from what we calculated, it is very low. Contraceptive supplies were just a way to reduce the risk to zero and pacify Sentinel Prime. We can only hope he will not take his anger on Bulkhead. Though, from all accounts, Bulkhead will not let himself be abused._ ::

Optimus nodded in acknowledgement. Bulkhead was a nice mech, and one of the most peaceful person Optimus had ever encountered. Some would have found him simple, despite his obvious genius when it came to Space Bridges, and given his unfortunate tendency to break things by accident, but Bulkhead wasn’t an idiot… even though he sometimes made mistakes. Helping Megatron construct a working Bridge hadn’t been his finest moment, one had to acknowledge. But on the whole, he was a very caring individual, and one who was incredibly loyal to both his team and to the Autobots.

Still, his patience wasn’t infinite, and Sentinel had a real talent to make bots angry at him even without meaning it -- well, Optimus supposed he didn’t always want to make everyone angry at him. How Bulkhead was going to answer to too much criticism was anyone guess…

Bumblebee was fidgeting and sighing in his seat. “How long again until the shuttle is here?” he asked, bored.

Optimus quickly checked his chronometer. “About fifteen cycles now.”

Bumblebee sagged. “So long! Why the Pit don’t they install a Space Bridge here? It would be so much simpler!”

Blurr hummed. “There were plans for one, at some point, as to bring the mechanicrops and energon mix faster to Cybertron. But budget cuts happened, and as Agri III is considered low risk, the nearby Athenia, which is more… sensitive to attacks, was chosen instead to hold one for this sector.”

Optimus frowned. “Only because of budget cuts? It doesn’t seem right to me. As a Repair and Maintenance Crew, we went about everywhere in the Commonwealth. I don’t think there is actually a sector, especially along the border, without two to four active Bridges. As for low risks… there are Decepticons around and on the planet, no?”

Blurr threw his head back, looking at the ceiling. “I’m not in the head of the higher ups, so I can’t tell you what they were thinking. But it is most likely they will reevaluate the ‘safety’ of this sector soon, so… who knows? Eh, you could even be the one to present the project. The High Council is listening to you,” he pointed out.

Optimus paled and grimaced. “Yeah… they listen… when they have time… and when they remember I have a voice,” he muttered. He looked angry and sad at the same time. Bumblebee had to resist the urge to just go and pat him in comfort. The Prime shook his head. “Anyway, how long does Intelligence think Bulkhead and Sentinel will need to remain here? I was lead to understand the mission was a simple and possibly fast one, but what little we gathered so far indicate they’ll be here for a while…”

Blurr sighed. “As long as necessary, Optimus. As long as necessary… and then some.”

Both mechs frowned. “‘And then some’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Bumblebee asked.

“... It is because of Sentinel, isn’t it?” Optimus realized.

The Intelligence Agent nodded briefly. “Sentinel Prime is very… unpopular with the population and with the Council itself at present time, not to mention the Senate. Although Ultra Magnus recommended some leniency, as the mech is obviously loyal if misguided, they aren’t keen on having him around anymore, and there’s little they can do to just force him to resign from his position. However, to calm spirits -- and especially Sentinel himself --, the higher ups would prefer for him to stay out of the public’s optics for an… unforeseen amount of time. Agri III would be perfect, or so they think.”

“That doesn’t feel right,” Optimus argued, though without much conviction. His relationship with Sentinel was still too sour for him to really defend the other Prime, but that didn’t meant he wanted Sentinel to be basically cast off and exiled of Cybertron. And what of Bulkhead? Would he be forced to stay here with Sentinel?

“You’re kidding, right? It sounds perfectly alright for me!” Bumblebee bounced with a cheeky smile. “No more Blowhard Prime causing us trouble! Time to party!”

Optimus sighed. “Honestly Blurr, it doesn’t seem… fair to Sentinel.”

Blurr gave him a look and shrugged. “It might not be, but we aren’t there yet. Perhaps spirits will calm down more quickly than we thought, and he’ll be welcome to take back his position as Elite Guard subcommander as soon as his current… ‘mission’ is over. In the contrary… ‘wait and see’, I think some of the organics on Earth say?”

The three bots fell silent. Bumblebee looked at the other two mechs with a slight frown. He didn’t understand why they seemed so gloomy. Wasn’t it a good news Sentinel was getting some comeuppance? It wasn’t like the guy could stay -- what was it called again? Ah, yes a Karma Houdini! -- his whole life. Bumblebee was all for not having to see the mech ever again if he could help it! He just didn’t understand why Optimus seemed so disheartened with it. Sure, they had been friends at some point, just like they had been friends with the creepy spider-lady -- and boy, was it another one he didn’t want to ever see again! --but seriously, they couldn’t be called ‘friends’ anymore. Even if there had been, perhaps, a tentative reconciliation with some of the Earth things…

No, he didn’t understand Optimus. He didn’t understand Blurr either, truth to be told. Was the guy really serious about wanting to ‘court’ him, by the way? It just seemed like a joke… except Blurr didn’t joke around. Wow, so he was really having a suitor? It was so weird! Little bots like him rarely attracted anyone, except one-night-stands… or so he had been told. Then again, he felt pretty sure that the Caretaker at the Youth Sector who had said that to him was just a fragger who should have ended in a trash compactor. Perhaps he should mention if to Blurr and Optimus?... Naw. Not their problem. Besides, he was a bit annoyed at them.

He had the feeling there was a whole level of conversation he didn’t get when the two mechs spoke, and it really irritated him. What were they seeing and saying he just couldn’t seem to grasp? And not just about Sentinel, too. He knew Optimus was kind of having a rough time with the Council as of now, for some reason he wasn’t willing to share. Blurr seemed to know more than him, but then again, as he had filled part of the Head of Intelligence’s duties for a while alongside Cliffjumper until they chose a new Prime to head the Division, he certainly had learned lot of secrets he wasn’t willing to share.

Oh, well… He shrugged. If it really was important, then he would be told. Hopefully. Optimus wasn’t the kind of bot who let others in the dark. For now, all he could do was wait for this stupid shuttle.

“So… how long again until the shuttle is here?” he asked casually, making the other Autobots groan.

**********************************

“I’m angry with you,” Bulkhead stated matter of factly as he kept thrusting into Sentinel.

Beneath him, the Prime panted and whined, gripping his arms as strongly as he could, head turned to the side, lips parted in a small ‘o’. His dress had long been discarded for the night cycle, letting his body fully offered to his lover’s optics. Bulkhead wasn’t quite certain Sentinel fully registered what he was being told. The Prime’s libido was so high at this point that he seemed unable to fully focus on anything but roll his hips against Bulkhead’s own, leaning readily and eagerly into his thrusts.

Frankly, even with lesser doses of aphrodisiacs, Sentinel remained quite… driven when it came to interfacing. And yes, Bulkhead fully knew about the drugged treats their neighbors kept slipping his Endura -- well, his sort-of Endura. Not that he minded… too much. Interfacing was nice, and Sentinel did desire him in this case -- though said desire was controversial, he was fully aware of it. However, it wasn’t like it was fully… unexpected. Aphrodisiac treats might not have been very current, but Bulkhead did know they existed -- and there was a family history there he didn’t want to dwell too much into; the only thing he consented to say was that it had brought him another sibling when his creators had decided to… spice up their interface life.

They were the ‘secret weapons’ of well-meaning neighbors and friends who noticed tensions in other couples. His and Sentinel’s spat hadn’t been quite as discreet as he would have hoped, if they had resolved to solve their ‘problems’ like that, he mused. How strange he hadn’t understood right away. Really, it should have been obvious to him the first time Sentinel crawled down to him before begging to be fragged. But, well, he had never expected it to happen.

Now, he knew he should have told Sentinel. It was very, very wrong of him not to tell the Prime he was only craving interfacing because he was drugged. But at the same time… Well, at the same time, Sentinel was such a… a slagger that Bulkhead was very reluctant to tell him anything. That and, well,... Bulkhead was a mech, and he had needs, like everyone, and seeing his fellow energon farmers -- though he wasn’t really an energon farmer… kinda -- openly interface and brag about their Enduras was just… Well, he was a mech like any other, and that was it.

So… keeping silent and more interfacing was fine for him.

“Do you hear me, Sentinel?” he asked again. “I repeat: I’m not happy with you.”

The Prime stopped moaning for a few moment, looking at him with dazed but narrowed optics. “Why?” he gasped and threw his head back as Bulkhead’s spike just stroked one particular cluster of sensor nodes.

Bulkhead grunted. “You were… rude,” he said, thrusting harder. “And you were… impolite… with… Optimus… and… Bumblebee,” he grunted again, moving Sentinel’s legs so they rested over his shoulders, crossed at the ankles behind his head.

Sentinel gasped as his Conjunx moved inside him again, the angle slightly different. “W… Well! That… that ye… yellow p...pest… uh… oooooooh… that yellow pest… started it!” His hands tightened over Bulkhead’s arms, so strongly he thought he was going to dent the metal plates.

Bulkhead shook his head slightly. “No. You did,” he said with a hard push. “I agree he bet you. But… you… shouldn’t… have… raised… to… the… bet,” he grunted. “And nothing… excuses… your attitude… with… Optimus! He was probably… the most polite… I ever… heard him!”

“He was… mocking… aah… mocking me too!” Sentinel defended himself between two deep intake of air to cool his frame.

“He was not,” Bulkhead corrected him, letting his spike slide out of Sentinel, who whined and keened at the lost, aft wiggling as and hands flailing as he tried to bring his loved back inside him. Bulkhead simply flipped him over so he would rest on his front before lifting his aft, taking hold of his hips and thrusting back in without a care, lubricant running freely along Sentinel’s thighs. The Prime’s hands tightened in the fold of the sheets as he started to take a rough, even pace.

“I don’t like it when you’re not polite with my friends,” he warned the Prime, his voice almost a growl. Sentinel didn’t seem to pick up on it, though. Either he wasn’t clear-headed enough yet to pick up on the clues his Conjunx wanted excuses on the behalf of their guests, or he didn’t care. Knowing Sentinel, the second option was most likely.

“Ssssss… so what?” he grumbled as his valve clenched around Bulkhead’s length.

“So I’m going to have to punish you if you don’t swear you’ll be nicer,” Bulkhead warned him, slapping the blue mech’s aft and making him yelp.

“You won’t… won’t dare!” Sentinel said, feeling more coherent suddenly.

“You want to bet?” Bulkhead rumbled as he let go of one of Sentinel’s hips and started to rummage through his subspace pocket, searching for a pair of stasis cuff he had put there, and another item he felt like using before the Prime started yet another rant he didn’t want to have to listen to.

Sentinel grunted and wiggled his aft, his body wanting more even as his mind started to clear itself. “They’re the ones who started… started it,” he insisted.

“No they’re not, and I want you to say you’re sorry for speaking badly to them and of them” Bulkhead answered, picking up his pace and making Sentinel’s body rock with his thrusts, the Prime moaning helplessly as he was thoroughly fragged. All the while, the Prime was shaking his head and mumbling he wouldn’t excuse himself or promise anything. Bulkhead said nothing and concentrated on the fragging. Sentinel just kept moaning loudly, obviously pleased. The noises he was making pushed Bulkhead over the edge very easily, and before long, he was overloading, spilling his fluids deep inside Sentinel, who keened and overloaded too as he felt the rush of transfluid in his valve and gestation chamber. Frag, was he happy to still have contraceptive chips now…

They fell down on the berth, Bulkhead still buried deep inside him, face against the soft, mesh-covered mattress. As Sentinel felt his charge dissipate a bit -- there was still an edge of horniness to him, but it had dulled, and he hoped he would be able to recharge now that it had abated, or at least he hoped so -- he buried his face into one of the pillows. Hmm… he was very tempted to recharge now, but at the same time, he felt too irritated to easily slip into recharge. Who did the oaf think he was to try and order him around? Especially where the Bumbler and Optimus were concerned? They were none of his fragging problem!

What Bulkhead was doing was… was… disrespecting a superior officer! Yes, exactly! Oh, but he was going to show him, and remind him who was the boss -- even if he was bottoming for him in that crazy relationship they had!

That the moment Bulkhead choose to pass him the stasis cuffs and bind his wrists behind his back. The sudden current surged through him and immobilized him before he was able to make a gesture.

“Bulkhead! What do you think you -- mmfomeingpfhe! Mmmphmmhpmmphp!” he grunted and mumbled through the gag the green mech shoved into his mouth and fastened behind his head. “Mmmph!” he tried to shook his head, but barely managed to move it.

Bulkhead flipped him over to make him lie on his back and towered over him, seeming unamused. “I told you I was going to have to punish you if you didn’t swear you were going to try to be nicer,” he said matter-of-factly as he looked down at Sentinel, who was glaring at him with all his might. It only made the Space Bridge Technician smile a bit.

“Still feeling horny?” he asked almost casually, and had to refrain himself from smiling widely as Sentinel’s cheeks reddened sensibly. Despite the previous overloads, it was obvious the Prime was still feeling like fragging, if only one more time. “Tell you what. You promise you will be nicer and you’ll give your excuses to Optimus and Bumblebee, and I’ll let you go right away,” he said gently. Sentinel just galred at him harder. “You’re sure? I’ve a datapad ready, you’ll just have to write in it and I’ll ask Spindle to post it in Riverbend; they do have a Post Office which handle written message deliveries! It’s not against the Intelligence’s orders, so it’s alright. What do you say?”

Sentinel tried to shift and glared, mumbling darkly behind the gag. Bulkhead sighed. “Yeah… I thought you would say so. Guess I’ll have to push the punishment a bit further,” he said quietly as he rummaged once again through his subspace pockets, taking out a plug he showed to Sentinel, whose optics widened as he tried to shake his head. He didn’t want that thing into him again! He hated the damn things, and Bulkhead knew it!

Gently, the big mech pressed the tip of the toy against Sentinel’s valve, pushing it slowly inside. It slide easily, Sentinel’s valve being still pleasantly stretched and still wet with lubricant as well as transfluid which kept dripping down his legs. The Prime moaned and mumbled through the gag, cursing and yes, begging, but Bulkhead kept pushing until the plug was nicely set in place and then, magnetized to Sentinel’s plating, allowing him no chance to dislodge it by squirming.

Fraaaag! he thought desperately as Bulkhead leaned down and laid on the berth, gathering Sentinel in his arms and… cuddling?! Well, yes, the mech was hugging him and petting him, nuzzling his face against his.

“Now,” he said, “I’m going to recharge for a bit. You really drained me, just so you know.” Oh, no, he wasn’t seriously…? “You’re going to stay like that and think about what you did wrong,” he warned the Prime, who almost snarled. “And when I’ll wake up… then, if you’re in a better mood, I’ll get the cuffs and the gag and the plug off, and if you’re still willing,” he said, stroking Sentinel’s inner thighs and brushing against the flanged part of the plug, making Sentinel squirm a bit, “then I’ll… take care of you,” he said, gently kissing Sentinel’s forehead.

“Mmmmmphhhh!” Sentinel protested. Bulkhead gently patted him on the head and shuttered his optics, setting his systems to a slower mod as to conserve energy and slip more easily into recharge. Even as he did so, he hugged Sentinel closer to his frame.

The Prime whined and cursed and threatened him, though all that was heard was muffled sounds that sound stopped, as it became obvious Bulkhead was indeed in recharge, even though his grip on Sentinel hadn’t lessened. Sentinel felt discomfort as the plug shifted with him as he tried to wiggle out of the Space Bridge Technician’s hold, to no avail.

He was going to kill him, he thought as he settled in for a long, uncomfortable wait as his systems run hot, his formerly slight arousal now raising up to new level as he felt Bulkhead’s limp spike press against one of his thighs. It was fragging torture, he thought desperately. Bulkhead had no right to do it to him! So what if he had a rather… conflictual relationship with Optimus and just couldn’t stand the yellow Minibot? It wasn’t Bulkhead’s problem! What right did he have to ‘punish’ Sentinel over it?! It wasn’t like his argument with them had ruined their cover, was it? Pollen and Nightglow hadn’t stayed long enough for their presence to be a problem. So, perhaps they would get a bit nosy, but they could deal with that, couldn’t they?

Trying to settle down more comfortably as he realized he could only wait it out, he winced and his spark skipped a bit as he felt Bulkhead’s spike react a bit in his recharge. In turn, it send a new surge of arousal through his own circuits. He was really going to be forced to play the humble and nice bot to get out of that ordeal? Argh!

Bulkhead shifted a bit in his recharge, his half-hard spike pressing a bit harder against Sentinel’s thigh, making the Prime mumble once more. Oh yeah, he was really, really going to kill him as soon as he was free… once he’d have managed to properly overload, that’s it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eheh, 70k down; 100k more to go. XD


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listening to Sparklings gives Sentinel a lead in his investigations... or so he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
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> • UnicronDay: Celebration involving the cleaning of an Altar dedicated to Unicron, as well as of family tombstones. An offering is made to Unicron so he won’t feel the need to bring misfortune on them. Also, it's the only day of the year where chastity is obligatory for couples, as interfacing is a mean to create new lives, which is in contradiction with Unicron.
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> Check out the end notes for more infos on the various families of Primus' Blessing. And yes, I found a name for almost every Sparklings/Younglings in town. XD  
> Sure, we don't see much of them, but I like my background characters to have names of their owns. ;)

“But I don’t want to go play outside!” one of the sparklings whined as one of his companions tried to drag him outside.

“Aww, come on, Steelclaw! You sound like a newspark, or a Femme,” his brother Spade told him, snickering, before he was cuffed by a surly Ethyl. “Ouch! What was that for?!”

“For being an idiot,” the little Femme said with an haughty look, which made a couple of the other sparklings chuckle with mirth.

Sentinel listened to them prattle distractedly. He had rarely the occasion to see the youngest inhabitants of Primus’ Blessings, as they spent most of their time playing outside or at school -- or what they used as school, anyway. Even at Festivals, their presence barely reached him, but truth to be told, he had been so shocked at these events he barely registered anything else. Seedleaf’s emergence… wasn’t something he wished to dwell, least he would feel sick. No, the sparklings and younglings in general barely registered on his radar.

However, for once, he couldn’t exactly get them off his processor, as they were running around in the Temple as their respective Carriers, Sires and neighbors finished cleaning a black, mean looking altar. One that had made Sentinel gulp nervously when he had first caught sight of it, without knowing why exactly. Then Bulkhead had explained with one word: Unicron.

The Unmaker himself. The Twin of Primus, the Destroyer.

And energon farmers venerated him. Well, no, not exactly.

From what Bulkhead had said -- and Sentinel had forced himself to listen, even if he was still crossed with him -- energon farmers thought that the Dark God could grow jealous of the attention given to his brother, and avenge himself with sending plagues and calamities on the harvests and the mechanimals. So, to make him skip them over in his fury, the priest of the Church of Primus always constructed an altar to him in their temples, and once a year, on a solar cycle they dubbed ‘UnicronDay’, they invited the farmers to come at the Temple of Primus to clean his brother’s altar and give him an offering, just so the Dark God would know he wasn’t being scorned at or forgotten. A prayer was also of circumstance. And, best of all, at least in Sentinel’s opinion, chastity was enforced on that particular day. Interfacing was after all a way to honor Primus in bringing forth newsparks; staying chaste and pure on UnicronDay was the best way to show Unicron he wasn’t being mocked, but respected.

No more riding Bulkhead’s spike in public for a day… No more getting pawed at, if only for a solar-cycle. Now, if only he could NOT jump Bulkhead when they’ll retire to the berth for recharge… Oh, the day had downside too, but small ones on the whole. Bulkhead had advised him against eating treats, to show that they didn’t ‘enjoy life as much as they would on other days’ or something like that, and to be sure neither of them would be tempted, he had actually locked the treats basket Sentinel had received two solar-cycles ago from Nightglow in a cupboard. Too bad; Sentinel wouldn’t have minded something sweet, and Proto-Peaches cakes were definitely something he enjoyed: sugary and smooth but also firm with a dash of energy just after consumption. Mmmm…

So… yeah. Everybody was busy cleaning the room and the altar, chatting quietly. And the sparklings and younglings helped… or clustered together to play. One small group near Sentinel was particularly loud. There was Steelclaw and Spade, two of Steelflail and Furrow’s creations, Ethyl, one of Stillbarrel and Dewdrop’s little femmes, and Cloudhunter, the youngest of Rookwall and Lifespring. They were, in their own words, bored, and the eldest wanted to go play outside, since it was allowed for them. However, Steelclaw, the youngest of the lot by far, was absolutely refusing to go and dragged his pedes down.

“I don’t want to go outside!” he wailed again, looking like he wanted to cry. “If I do, the ghost is going to catch me!”

Oh, for the love of… Sentinel almost sighed. Ghosts! How stupid. There were only sparklings to be afraid of something that didn’t exist.

He wasn’t the only one who thought so, judging by the way the three other sparklings started to laugh and chuckle as they took in the dismayed expression on their comrade’s face.

“Ghosts don’t exist, silly,” Ethyl chided the other sparkling with a smirk. “They’re just… they’re imaginary,” she said with authority.

Steelclaw pouted. “They do exist! I saw one the other day! And I wasn’t the only one to see him, too! Germina saw him too! And Midnite and Carrow and Sickle and Sprinkle and also Dreamwright too!” he insisted. “We all saw him! And several times!”

Cloudhunter raised an optics ridge, seeming dubious and unsure. “Is that so? And where and when did you see your ‘ghost’, exactly?”

Steelclaw shuffled nervously. “Well, uh, you see…”

Spade looked at his little brother with a frown. “Steelclaw… don’t tell me you went out at night? that you all sneaked out of your berths and into the woods so you could play? Sire and Carrier said we couldn’t go play outside once the Sun was down! It’s too dangerous! We could get injured and lost and they wouldn’t know! And I’m sure the creators of the others told them the same thing! Oh, just you wait until I tell them…” he warned, and Steelclaw keened and threw himself at him.

“Please, please, please! Don’t tell them! I just did it twice… or thrice! And nobody was hurt! Please, don’t rat me out! Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!” he was starting to cry, and Spade patted him awkwardly.

Sentinel shook his head. Sparklings...

“Eh, calm down,” Spade mumbled. “I won’t say anything, I swear… not to Sire and Carrier anyway.” He let it obvious he intended to have words with someone anyway. Squinting Sentinel seemed to recall that Steelclaw and Spade, like all of Steelflail and Furrow’s sparklings, shared their berthrooms. There was about two sparklings a room, from what he remembered of Serene Meadows’ layout. Now, Sentinel didn’t know who roomed with who, but he gathered that whoever slept with Steelclaw must have know his sibling was slipping out at night, and hadn’t alerted anyone.

Given the look on Spade’s face, whoever the brat was, he was going to get a good thrashing. Eh. Figure. Sentinel would kinda approve if it happened; it would remind him of Autoboot Camp or just serving in the Guard, when he was the one handing punishments to the Cadets or soldiers who had royally screwed up.

Steelclaw sniffed, still upset, but he looked calmer. Cloudhunter coughed. “Uh, you didn’t really answer my question, you know. Where and when did you see him, that ghost? What did he look like?”

Steelclaw shuffled nervously. “We… ah… we saw him in the woods, and also on the road. He was… he was tall, and pale, and he seemed to glow gray and he didn’t look like he was touching the ground! There was mist everywhere and he was slaloming between the crystal trees, as if he was flying!”

The other three sparklings looked at him with wide optics. Sentinel raised an optic ridge.

“Was it at night?” Ethyl asked, obviously curious. “If so, then you could just have had… an hallu… hallucination,” she said carefully. “And even if you really was someone… You know it could have been anything or anyone, like a traveller who wasn’t using his light,” she pointed out, determined to be reasonable. However, like the other, she seemed a bit spooked.

Steelclaw bit his lower lip, looking nervously right and left. “I… not always,” he admitted. “We saw him at night, but also at dawn and twilight, and once, we tried to follow him, but he noticed, and he looked at us and flew away!”

Oh, now Sentinel was definitely interested. He didn’t believe in ghosts -- ridiculous things, in his opinion; once you were dead, you were dead -- but he did know a few things about them, or what other people believed of them. He knew for a fact that ghosts didn’t appear in the day, so whatever the sparklings had seen certainly wasn’t a ghost. And Sentinel, if he didn’t believe in ghosts, did believe in Decepticons roaming the land disguised as ghosts to scare off curious sparklings who, given their own tendencies to roam, were more inclined to notice them than busy adults working on their farms. He needed to ask them a few questions. He dropped the brush he had been holding and took a few steps in their direction.

“Excuse me,” he said to the four sparklings who startled at hearing him. Obviously, they hadn’t noticed he was so close to them and perfectly able to hear them. Steelclaw half hide behind his brother, just as Ethyl crossed her arms with a bored look and Cloudhunter gave him a shaky wave of the hand.

“Ah, hello, Mr. Sentinel, Sir,” he said politely, and for a moment, Sentinel was reminded of Jetstorm and Jetfire, who greeted him almost the same way, with the added ‘Prime’ to his name. Come ot think, they acted like overgrown sparklings themselves. Sentinel wondered exactly how old they were, finally; nobody had ever told him, and it hadn’t been mentioned in the initial file he had read about them.

Trying to smile sweetly to the sparklings -- just so they wouldn’t feel threatened by him -- he asked. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation…” Ethyl snorted, obviously thinking that the grow up he was could have NOT listened to what was obvious a very privy conversation, and Sentinel almost glared at her, almost; one didn’t glare seriously at a sparkling. “... and I was wondering… about that ghost you saw, Steelclaw.”

“Uh, yes, Sir?” the littlest of the lot said, looking worried.

Sentinel tried to smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anything to your parents -- though I suppose I should insist you never sneak out at night again, it’s bad,” he said without much conviction. Steelclaw obviously relaxed some, and Sentinel continued. “I was just wondering… when did you see him for the first time?”

Steelclaw seemed to ponder the question for a moment. “I… I think it was about five orbital cycles ago,” he said, uncertainly. Spade’s optics widened at the admission.

“You’ve been going out behind everybody’s back for so long? Oh, I’m so going to strangle Dibble!” he rumbled unhappily as he hugged his younger sibling.

Sentinel gave him a look, not happy at the interruption. “Five orbital cycles ago… so, five orns and half, that’s about right?”

“I… I think so; Pastor Acrux didn’t teach us to count in orns yet. He said we would learn when we would be older and have to deal with citybots,” the sparkling said, blushing a bit as he seemed to remember that Sentinel was one of the so-called ‘citybots’.

The Prime waved it off. “It’s alright.” Well, not really, but he couldn’t get angry at a sparkling, it would be stupid. “And since that first time, how many time did you see that ghost?”

“Uh… About… about once or twice an orbital cycle?” he said without much conviction. At Sentinel’s look, he shuffled nervously and stammered. “I… I’m really not sure! I haven’t always seen him myself! Germina said she saw him a lot of times more than me, and Dreamwright too!”

Mmm… Germina would be Huller and Pollen eldest Femme, the middle child after Cisel and Rockrose -- and was it him, or was he finally to remember the name of all the sparklings and their creators? Well, perhaps not all, he amended as he couldn’t quite remember who the other two sparklings of Huller and Pollen were -- while Dreamwright would be… Mayor Levitacus and his first Endura Yoke’s second youngest.

Curious. From what he had managed to glimpse of Dreamwright, the sparkling -- who was in fact about to enter younglinghood -- was a nervous, timid thing who was having a hard time keeping a secret. He would have thought the kid would have talked to his Sire or his Carrier about it by now, unlike the rest of the merry band of reckless sparklings.

Had the Mayor not been told there was a ‘ghost’ terrorizing the sparklings? Or… had he known and covered it up? Was he the elusive Decepticon’s informant they were tracking down? As the local authority figure, he was supposed to be above suspicion, but now… Feeling giddy, he continued to interrogate the sparkling.

“Now, didn’t you tell any grow up what was going on? They could have chased that nasty ghost away, you know,” he said, trying to sound kind and reassuring.

“You don’t even believe it’s a real ghost,” Ethyl said, frowning. “So why do you ask?”

Damn, she was a sharp one, this one. “What make you think I don’t believe it’s a real ghost?” he asked her swiftly.

The little Femme shrugged. “‘Cause you don’t look convinced at all.”

Sentinel pursed his lips. “Well… I’m not sure it’s a ghost,” he agreed, seeing there was no point in obviously lying. “Still, that doesn’t mean I’m not worried… for you sparklings,” he added. “It could be a… a vagrant or a thief, or someone who could harm you. I’m sure the Mayor should know. Haven’t his creation told him about what was going on?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested.

Steelclaw stammered. “W… Well, Dreamright told Clearway. He thought it would be better than the grown ups, because Clearway is nice and he’s smart and he always has good ideas!” That seemed to surprise the rest of the group.

“Did he?” Spade asked, blinking. “How come he hasn’t told the grown ups then?”

Hmm… interesting. Clearway was the second oldest of the Mayor’s sparklings and, as such, Dreamwright’s older brother. Sentinel couldn’t say he had had many contacts with him, but the silhouette of the young mech, who had just entered adulthood according to Agri III’s laws and calendar, was a familiar one in his processor. He always seemed to have a blank expression on his face any time his proud Sire mentioned he intended his creation to become ‘someone’ and would spare no expense to send him study on Cybertron if he had to.

Seriously, sometimes Sentinel wondered what was wrong with the mechling; if he had been born and raised on this hellhole of a planet, he would certainly jumped at the opportunity to escape and go to Cybertron. Clearway just… didn’t seem to. Was it because he was helping the Decepticons hiding on the planet?

Leaning forward, trying to not sound too eager, Sentinel smiled at Steelclaw. “You did the right thing… telling someone. And what did Clearway say when Dreamwright told him about the ‘ghost’ you saw?”

Steelclaw fidgeted. “W… Well, Dreamwright said he asked a lot of questions, kinda… kinda like you,” he said shyly. Sentinel’s Spark beat faster. “And then… well, he was angry at Dreamwright, and at us too. He said we had no business being out so late or so early or so far from the farms and, and…” he shuffled nervously. “He said we weren’t supposed to anymore and he scolded Dreamwright and told him he wouldn’t go out anymore and he kinda, blocked the window Dreamwright used to get out? He said he wouldn’t tell our creators, but that we better stop, or else, and well… that’s it,” he finished as he hide behind Spade once again.

So, so interesting. So he had asked the sparklings about what they might have seen? In Sentinel, it clearly indicated Clearway was implicated. Perhaps… just perhaps he had finally found the lead they needed and he would soon be able to leave that horrible place? Oh, yes, finally!

“Mr Sentinel, Sir? You’re not going to scold Clearway for not telling the grown ups about… about us?” Steelclaw asked, wary. The other sparklings all looked at him with various degrees of suspicion; Sentinel’s questions had sparked up some distrust, it seemed. That wouldn’t do; if they ever told someone about Sentinel’s questions… if Clearway wasn’t the only one involved… these kids could ruin everything.

He thought fast. “I’d… like to have a word with Clearway, but I will not scold him for trying to protect you,” he said with a smile. It didn’t seem to appease them. “Hmm, what about I give you freshly baked Copper-Cookies? If you’re nice and promise you won’t just go and investigate that ghost by yourselves? Because I know you just want to,” he said, cutting a protestation from the sparklings before it could even start. “I know it sounds like a big adventure, but really! That ‘ghost’ could be a very mean bot, and we wouldn’t want you to get injured,” he said, trying to not sound too insistent. “I’d prefer to know you’re safely at home with a fuel tank full of delicious treats.” He smiled in victory as the kids started to look at each other, silently conversing.

“... are the treats for everyone?” Ethyl asked suspiciously.

“Hum, yes, yes, of course,” Sentinel answered, mentally calculating how many Copper-Cookies and other assorted energon treats he was going to have to make as the sparklings all broke into delighted smiles. He almost winced as he remembered just how many ravenous sparklings the town counted, and he knew that when Ethyl meant ‘everyone’, she really meant every sparklings and younglings not anywhere near mechhood. Let see, three or four treats by mechling, for about… _Ouch_ , he thought as he nearly grimaced. He was going to have to spend a whole day in Shady Acres’ kitchen in order to feed them. Joy.

“Is that a one time occurrence or are you going to make it regularly?” Cloudhunter asked, head tilted to the side.

Sentinel blinked. “Where did a sparkling your age heard a word like that?”

Cloudhunter shrugged. “In my Carrier’s books; I read a lot,” he said proudly.

“So I see,” the Prime mumbled. “Uh, a one time occurrence,” he finally said, only to be frowned at by the sparklings. “How about I make it regular if I have the proof you’re being good sparklings?” he added quickly.

“Deal!” Ethyl said quickly, bouncing, as the other cheered. Sentinel blinked. Suddenly, he felt like he had just been conned by a bunch of kids. But they weren’t smart enough to trap an Elite Guard Officer… right?

“Sentinel?” Bulkhead called out as he came near. “Oh, hello there, little ones. How are you all doing?” he said, smiling goofily at the kids and leaning toward them.

They chuckled merrily. “We’re fine, Mr Bulkhead! Sentinel promised us Copper-Cookies!” Steelclaw said with a big smile.

Bulkhead blinked. “Did he? Wow. That’s very nice of him,” he said, glancing over at Sentinel, who looked at him with a sour expression. The Prime was still angry with him with the cuffs and gag thing, not to mention the plug. “Do you mind if I take my lovely Endura with me? We still have to make our offering to Unicron,” he said as he passed an arm around Sentinel’s waist casually. Sentinel was half-tempted to shrug it off but thought better of it; before witnesses, as young as they were, better not act suspiciously. Little monsters seemed already far too familiar with the concept of blackmail, for some reason, and he didn’t like the way Ethyl looked at him, as if she was calculating something.

The sparklings all shook their heads, indicating they didn’t see anything wrong with the couple’s departure. Bulkhead patted Spade’s helm gently. “You be nice, would you? Your creators should be here in a few cycles to take you back to Serene Meadows, so Steelclaw and you, don’t go and run outside with the others, ok?”

Spade pouted. “Aww, not fair,” he said as Cloudhunter and Ethyl giggled as they darted out, pursuing each other in the hallways, their laugher resonating everywhere, joining the sounds of other sparklings running around and just having fun.

Bulkhead chuckled as he grabbed Sentinel and led him toward the freshly cleaned altar, with a bouquet he had taken out of subspace in his hands. “You promised to make them Copper-Cookies? Really?”

Sentinel grunted. “Shut up. I needed a way to buy their silence, and it seemed like a good one. Though I think they might have…” he interrupted himself, not willing to admit he might have actually been manipulated by a bunch of sparklings. He shook his head. “Anyway, there’re things I need to tell you about! I might have found a new lead,” he whispered quickly as Bulkhead’s audio receptor as they neared the Altar and were greeted by other couples.

Bulkhead nodded swiftly and mumbled a ‘later’ as they mingled with everyone. Sentinel refrained himself to sigh. He so wanted things to be over already.

Hopefully, they’ll be able to talk quietly about it back at Shady Acres…

**************************************

Crouching behind a bush, Sentinel grumbled. Stupid Bulkhead Who thought he was mistaken! But Sentinel just knew he was right and that Clearway was the traitor they were seeking. Well, they were searching mainly for Decepticons, but they certainly didn’t operate alone! And Clearway had been acting very suspicious since a while now, Sentinel had concluded as he carefully asked some questions during the Enduras reunions… and Bulkhead asked others during the Conjunx/Enduras ‘private’ times.

It all amounted to the same thing: there was something going on with Clearway, and it had been brewing for a while now.

First off, the mechling had started, since his coming of age almost a full stellar-cycle ago, to distance himself from his Sire. From what he had gathered, Clearway had used to be a polite, well-behaved youngling who followed his Sire around and was in awe before him. Well, he might still be polite and well-behaved and apparently hard-working, since he presumably went to help an older farmer with his harvests in one of the neighboring villages, but in awe before his Sire? Certainly not anymore.

From Safepath’s own testimony -- which Sentinel got fairly easily, since the other mech was happy to share his growing unrest about the matter--, there was something of a growing distance between Sire and creation. Nobody could pinpoint out why, exactly.

Levitacus had always been fond of his second creation, the one he hoped would become a medic or the future Mayor after him or the Head of a Guild, not just another farmer, since it was Clearway’s older brother who was supposed to inherit the farm. As a youngling, Clearway had apparently agreed and anticipated the moment he would go and study in the ‘big city’ of FlowingRiver or leave the planet to go and be schooled in one of the Commonwealth’s prestigious Academies. Like his siblings, he had been spoiled almost rotten by their Sire, who doted on each of them and got them the best money could buy, and as the Mayor’s creations, they were well-respected by everyone. On the whole, Clearway had had the perfect life and future.

Then, three of four stellar cycles ago, Clearway had just… changed. Not right away, of course, and not in obvious ways, but suddenly, he wasn’t following his Sire around and asking for his advice and approbation anymore. He still spend time with his siblings and doted on them, their Carrier and his Step-Carrier, but he spend less time at Crystal Bright, claiming he had met up with Old’ Tinker, a farmer from Primus’ Gift, one of the neighboring village, and that he was helping him on his own farm. The old model, who was apparently as old as Ultra Magnus or the rust bucket on Optimus’ team, had apparently injured himself and had trouble working alone. As he was an old friend of Levitacus’ own Creators and a friend of the family, it hadn’t raised any optic ridge. At the most, Levitacus had frowned a bit because he would rather have had his creation working otherwhere than in an orchard, energon-fruits apparently being Old’ Tinker’s speciality.

Curiously, despite having recovered since, Old’ Tinker always seemed to need help. Clearway kept going over there to work with his Zap-Horse, always vaguely answering to his Sire about when he was going to stop, so they could seriously think about his studies. Levitacus didn’t want to force the point, as he had gathered it would only irritate his creation further, but still…

And that wasn’t all.

Safepath had sighed as Sentinel helpfully dried the plates the other Endura was cleaning, the two of them alone in Bright Crystals’ kitchen after a Endura reunion where Sentinel had purposely instructed Bulkhead to come and pick him up late, so he would have time to subtlety interrogate Clearway’s Step-Carrier.

“I swear, it’s probably it is because he has too much work, what’s with his work on Tinker’s farm and insisting to help here, keeping an optic on his youngest siblings and studying in his room in his spare time -- because even if Clearway isn’t leaving now, my Levitacus insists he doesn’t forget about them… But really, it’s the first time I saw him do so many mistakes in a field. He’s either incredibly tired… or incredibly distracted. Can you imagine weeding out good plants without noticing? Or confusing the seeds he was supposed to use?”

Well, Sentinel could very well imagine it, given he himself still had to check both. But yes, he could understand that for someone who had been born and raised on an energon farm, it was akin to the most grievous sin possible.

“And have you talked with him? About what is bothering him?” Sentinel had asked, trying to get a better view of the situation. At this point, he was already almost certain the young mech had been contacted and accepted to play informant for the Decepticons. He just needed more proofs before he could act and contact intelligence.

Safepath had shaken his head sadly. “Unfortunately, it is hard to. Clearway usually pretends everything is fine. He’s… a very private person,” Safepath explained. “And he really dislikes worrying people. He kept insisting he was perfectly fine, that he only needed rest… so we dropped the matter. After all, it wasn’t so bad, just a one time mistake that was easily corrected.”

There had been something else Sentinel had wondered about and had been hesitant to ask, as they weren’t a lot of way to make it sound casual. “Tell me, Safepath… given how large Bright Crystals is… I suppose each of your sparklings has his own room?”

Safepath had hummed. “Mmm, yes, aside of the littlest ones, who room together, though they’ll have their own rooms later, and the ones I hope to have again soon too. Levitacus said he would enlarge the house again if needed. Why this question?”

Sentinel had blushed and fidgeted, trying to appear hesitant, though he had come up with a very good excuse. “Well, uh, you see, Shady Acres… it’s a fine house, but the rooms seem so little, and in case we have… well, for the little ones…” he said.

Safepath understood -- or thought he understood -- and smiled widely. “Oh, you mean in case Primus’ bless you with a large family? You’d want for each to have his own room if you can help it?”

“... Something like that, yes,” Sentinel had nodded quickly. There, he didn’t even had to say anything, Safepath had guessed alone what Sentinel ‘shyly’ alluded at.

The kind-sparked Endura had wiped his hands clean on his apron and patted Sentinel. “Well, don’t you worry. There’re very good carpenters around. Why, Fireclay, Smokefall’s brother, is very good at construction works! I’m sure he would be delighted to help!”

“I… don’t think I ever met Smokefall or Fireclay,” Sentinel had said carefully. Smokefall was a familiar name, but Fireclay, not so much.

Safepath had covered his mouth with one hand. “Oh my, it’s true, they were already gone when you and Bulkhead arrived! Such a sad story,” he said, shaking his head, before explaining. “Smokefall is Shimmersun’s Conjunx,” he said. “You met Shimmersun, right?”

“... Briefly,” he acknowledged. A golden yellow and bronze mech, he pictured him in his head, who joined them for Festivals but had never come to Enduras reunions, as he was working alone on his property of Cheerful Creek in the absence of his Conjunx. A discreet mech, with at least four sparklings hiding behind his legs.

“Well, Fireclay and Smokefall both grew up on Restful Hollow, their family property since at least five generations. As Fireclay was the oldest, he inherited it when their Creators decided to retire and go live with another of their creations further North, and Smokefall had Cheerful Creeks build for him and Shimmersun, since he didn’t want to leave Primus’ Blessing,” he explained. Sentinel nodded politely, not seeing the point of the story. “Now, ten orbital cycles ago, Restful Hollow caught fire in the middle of the night cycle! Everybody managed to get out, and nobody was injured, but the house was so damaged that Fireclay, his mate and their sparklings had to leave and go live with some relatives until they could gather enough money for the reparations. The incident really shook Smokefall, and just like that, he decided he wanted to become a firefighter!”

Well, probably not a bad idea in a town like that, Sentinel mused. “So he left his mate behind to go and find a teacher?”

Safepath nodded sadly. “Yes, he did. Oh, we don’t blame him, and Levitacus would be very happy and proud to have an official firefighter in town, but it is sad he had to leave his farm and his Endura and their sparklings alone for so long. He send them news regularly, but we don’t think he’ll come back before the NewYear, at the very least.”

“Sad,” Sentinel had commented politely, caring little. Sure, he had found Shimmersun and his absent spouse suspicious earlier, but he now had a better lead with Clearway. Safepath hadn’t finished speaking, though.

“I still have bad memory fluxes about that night! If Clearway hadn’t chosen that night to go for a walk and saw the flames, who know what would have happened! Fireclay and his family were all deep in recharge when it started…”

Sentinel startled at that. “Clearway was the one who raised the alarm? Was it usual for him to go on walks like that?” he asked, feeling very interested. Could the young mech had set the fire himself for some reason? Like, destroying the house and creating an empty, convenient meeting ground?

Safepath blinked. “Well, yes. He had gone out to clear his mind for a homework he was supposed to send to an online class. It isn’t so unusual; he tended to take walk at night before to gather inspiration for poems. He’s a closet romantic, our Clearway,” he said fondly.

“Used to? He doesn’t anymore?” Sentinel pried.

Safepath bit his lip and looked nervously at the door before turning toward Sentinel. “I’d like it to stay between us, but… He still does. Only, I don’t think he wants his Sire to know. Levitacus is a good mech, but he’d rather have his son studying Laws and History or Medicine than spending his time reading poetry and studying Pre-War Literature. I know for a fact that he still write some, and I think that’s why he sneaks out at night sometimes.”

“He does that often? You’re never worried something might happen to him?” Sentinel asked, trying to just sound like a concerned neighbor.

Safepath just smiled. “Oh, he’s an adult now, it’s not like I can scold him much, though I’d wish he was more honest with us. But yes, I think he’s out about… once a decacycle.”

And in Sentinel’s mind, it had opened all sorts of possibilities. The mysterious ‘ghost’ the various sparklings of the village -- who had promptly besieged him at Shady Acres until he gave them the promised Copper-Cookies, the little rascals! -- had seen, could it be Clearway sneaking out at night? There was a good probability he was. That meant that if he managed to follow him next time he went out, he could use the young mech to lead him to the Decepticons and proceed to their arrest!

No more Agri III!

But when he had brought the news back to Bulkhead, the green mech had looked sceptical.

“I do agree that Clearway does act bizarrely, but I think you’re overthinking. He’s just a young mech who probably feels like rebelling against his family. Primus knows I wasn’t much better at his age! And what if he’s really the traitor you think he is, what are you going to do with him? Send him in prison to Kaon?”

“Why the Pit not, if he’s guilty?” the Prime had said back.

Bulkhead had shaken his head. “You really never stop to think, do you?” Sentinel had bristled, but bulkhead had continued speaking. “Besides, you have absolutely no proof he’s guilty of any foul play, you just have hersay that he’s behaving strangely… for a young mech living in a provincial town of an agricultural planet. Courts will not take it seriously.”

“Well, I know I’m right! He’s the spy we’ve been looking for, I just know it, and I’m going to prove it,” Sentinel had shouted before storming out.

For several night cycles now, once his body had stopped to crave Bulkhead’s embrace -- and Primus, he hoped the damn virus running amok in his circuits stopped soon, because he was getting tired of having his valve ache like that -- he had come to watch over Bright Crystals, waiting for Clearway to make a move.

And tonight, finally, his patience was about to be recompensed, he thought as he watched the lean form of Clearway carefully close the door behind him without a noise, drape a cape over his shoulders and walk in the night toward an unknown destination.

Carefully, Sentinel rose and followed him at good distance, occasionally hiding behind trees and bushes along the way as Clearway left the path and directed himself toward the crystal trees woods.

With each steps they took, Sentinel felt giddier. Soon, it would be over. Mentally, he made the inventory of everything he had brought with him: his battle lance and his Skyboom shield in case there was a fight, two pairs of stasis cuffs for restraining eventual prisoners,... His audios and optics sensors were in ‘record’ mode, as to gather incontestable proof of foul play, in case there were too many people at once for him to fight -- for Sentinel, despite being a member of the Elite Guard, wasn’t invincible, and he knew it. If there were more than two or three people at the mysterious meeting Clearway was clearly heading to, he would… backpedal and call upon Bulkhead for reinforcements.

Hopefully, by then, the oaf would have finally come to believe him.

They walked for a while, dodging trees and trying not to trip over roots -- which, Sentinel found out, wasn’t easy at all -- and crossing various mechanimals running in fright at their approach. Sometimes, Clearway paused and looked around, as if he was sensing he was being followed, and Sentinel then made extra efforts to hide himself and let the younger mech take a comfortable advance before continuing to follow him. Clearway seemed to navigate the woods without any problems despite the lack of light, and if Sentinel had been in a better mood and not convinced he was a dirty traitor, he might have been slightly impressed, given how himself kept stumbling.

At long last, straight ahead, Sentinel saw they were reaching the edge of a small clearing -- and right there, leaning against a BeryliumOak, a caped and hooded silhouette was waiting.

Sentinel’s Spark almost burst out in excitement. There he was, that Decepticon!... Except, it seemed was too small to be a standard Decepticon, his CPU whispered to him. Almost all the ones he had ever seen had been hulking giants next to whose Bulkhead or members of the Guard like Grandus or the energon farmer Tidalwave looked like dwarves.

Sure, there were small models among Megatron’s forces, especially Autobot traitors like… like that freaky techno-organic Blacharachnia Femme, who was NOT Elita-One. The silhouette Clearway urged toward seemed to be about Clearway’s size, if not slightly smaller. So… another spy? How disappointing… Then again not; it could be proof there was in fact an extended network on the planet -- or even in the whole Commonwealth! If so… if Sentinel could have the proof… he didn’t know if it could interrupt his current undercover mission here on Agri III, but it certainly would allow him to gain some of the Council’s favor back.

Quickly, he augmented the range of his audio sensors’ perception, focusing his hearing as to not miss a single word of the conversation they were going to have, even as he awkwardly climbed up in a tree and hide himself in the crystalline foliage, optics staring straight at the traitors.

As he had guessed he would, just as soon as Clearway noticed the other caped mech, he rushed toward him eager to… embrace him in his arms and kiss him with obvious passion just as the other spy did?

… Ok, that wasn’t what Sentinel had expected at all.

… Maybe the Decepticons had drafted Clearway by using charm?

“Oh, my love,” the Mayor’s son whispered softly between two kisses, though it was still picked up by Sentinel’s audios. By reflex, he started to record. The two mechs -- at least, he assumed the other figure was a mech -- were rubbing against each others.

“Cl… Clearway! Oh! The day seemed so long!” Well, it was definitely a mech’s voice -- and one he was familiar with, though Sentinel couldn’t say where he had heard it before… Was it… another mech from the village?

He didn’t have time to ponder it much more, for Clearway dropped to a knee, taking one of the other mech’s hands in his and kissing it before clearing his vocalizer and starting to… No. Was he really reciting poetry?!

“Come live with me and be my Love, and we will all the pleasures prove, that hills and valleys, dale and field, and all the craggy mountains yield. There will we sit upon the rocks, and see the shepherds feed their flocks, by shallow rivers, to whose falls melodious birds sing madrigals…”

Sentinel blinked, stunned, as the young mech continued talking nonsense to his… suitor, who giggled and cooed softly. The poem continued for a while, with references to a ‘bed of BerylliumRoses’, a ‘gown of the finest Electrosheep’s wool’, some ‘silver dishes’ and a ‘ivory table’, and other nonsense that left Sentinel perplexed and reeling back in discomfort.

“... If these delights thy mind may love, Then live with me and be my Love,” the Mayor’s son finished with a last kiss on the hand he was still holding.

“Oh, Clearway,” the still hooded mech sighed. “Of course I’ll be your Love. Now and forever,” he said as Clearway rose and embraced him again.

“My beautiful, perfect Churn,” he whispered back. Sentinel startled. Churn? Steamroller and Rennet’s eldest creation? The shepherd at Harmony Grove?! That was he Clearway was meeting with in the middle of the night?!

… Either Churn was a better spy than Sentinel had thought, or he had misread the situation somewhere.

“This solar-cycle felt like it would never end,” Churn moaned as Clearway trailed little kisses along his neckline. “I couldn’t wait until tonight so we could finally met.”

“It seemed far too long for me too,” Clearway answered as his hands trailed down the body of his… suitor? Lover? One or the other, Sentinel thought as Churn shifted, trying to guide Clearway’s hands between his legs. For the first time, the slightly taller mech balked.

“Hmm, no, no, my Love,” Clearway said as he let go of Churn, making the other mech keen. “Not until we’re properly engaged,” he said with a last kiss on Churn’s forehead.

Churn sighed and pulled down his hood, revealing his black face and yellow-striped helm. “I wish we were already. Why can’t you just tell your Sire you wish to court me properly? We wouldn’t need to be so secretive anymore,” he said, obviously unhappy.

Clearway sighed as he sat on the damp, cold ground, Churn sitting by his side and leaning against him as they continued lightly stroking each other. “I don’t wish to tell him anything until it’s too late for him to do anything against our union, and you know it. Once I have enough credits to buy us our own farm, once I’m certain we can settle down together without obstacle, then I’ll tell him, and he’ll be hard pressed to tell us ‘no’.” The young mech smirked.

Churn didn’t look convinced. “Really, sometimes I think you’re taking it too seriously. I mean, you know he wouldn’t refuse you and I being a couple…He always seemed to like me, when we were sparklings playing together with the other farmers’ creations, and he does love you,” he pointed out. “He’d be happy to know you want to start a family of your own with someone he knows.”

Clearway looked at the sky through the heavy foliage, optics distant. “True, he wouldn’t really object,” he acknowledged. “But me choosing to stay in Primus’ Blessing and be a simple farmer, and not the Agri III’s Council Member or the lawyer or the medic he always dreamed of? That, he would definitely object to if I ever told him it is what I gift. Even if he agreed to a courtship… he could use it against me, send me over for these studies he dreams for me to do. One word of discontentment from me, and he could break of our engagement, and that, I couldn’t live with.”

Oh, for the love of…! Sentinel almost cursed. Was it why he was sneaking out at night, really? Because he wanted to keep his romance a secret from his family and from the farmers at large?

“I think you fear too much,” Churn said. “Your Sire might be a bit… pompous, but he’s a good mech at Spark. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have had such a wonderful creation as you,” he said with a soft kiss against Clearway’s cheek.

Well, Sentinel did agree with him; he very much doubted Levitacus had what it took to blackmail someone into his bidding by using his loved one, especially when it was his creation he would be blackmailing.

Clearway shrugged, seeming slightly mollified. “Hmm, perhaps he would not… But I’m not ready to take this risk. Besides, even if he didn’t threaten me with ending our engagement, you think I would accept even one second to be parted from you if I could help it?” he asked with a soft kiss to Churn’s forehead. “No, I won’t do these stupid studies he wants me to make.”

“They interested you, not so long ago,” Churn pointed out quietly.

“That was before I discovered just how much I loved you, and how much I just loved working in the fields, preparing the soil for the seeds that would give tasty mechanicrops,” he answered with another kiss. “And honestly… people grow up and change, my Love. Perhaps, a couple of vorns ago, when I was younger and not sure enough about what I wanted to do in life, I would have followed my Sire’s plans for my future, but not anymore.”

“You Sire only wants your happiness…”

Clearway sighed. “That’s the problem, really. He always thought he knew exactly where and how we would be happy, and he decided of our futures even before we were born. Arcturus, as the eldest, was to inherit the farm, me I would become a politician or a medic, Helix was supposed to get married and have sparklings since she’s a femme, Dreamwright should get into priesthood,... Sire knows best what suit us,” he said, a tad sarcastic.

Sentinel sighed. Oh, the old rebellious thing… Frag, he couldn’t believe Bulkhead had been right!

“Granted,” Clearway pursued, “Arcturus does like farm work and dreams of having the biggest herds of the regions, but for the rest of us… Helix would be a finer politician than I ever could, and from the way Procyon keep bandaging his dolls, you can guess he has an interest in the medical field. But he’s not willing to see it… not yet,” he sighed. “That damn money of his also caught up with his processor,” he said in distaste.

“Oh, you shouldn’t say that about your Sire, Clearway,” Churn chided him even as he nestled closer to him.

“But it’s true, my Love. Sire might try to be a good mech, but he always think about the cost… or basking in pride over how much it cost him. Look at the extensions at Bright Crystals; from a simple farm, it became the biggest property around in all the neighboring villages! These fancy toys you can only find on Cybertron and that all the Sparklings around here dreamed to have after that wandering seller passed by? Just guess how many he bought for Procyon’s emergence! The dresses of my Carrier and Safepath? All made of the finest fabric he could buy, trimmed with golden threads and finest lace!” He shook his head, obviously displeased. “He’s so busy congratulating himself over being rich and he doesn’t know what real labor feel like… I find if disgusting.”

Churn hugged him. “Oh, Love…”

“Understand me, my Love,” Clearway continued. “I… I can’t honestly say I don’t like the money, but really, what kind of mech would I be if I let my father’s relative fame and fortune do everything for me? I wouldn’t feel like a real mech. Sure, perhaps Sire wouldn’t force me about these studies, and perhaps he would allow us to Bond early… but he would insist on buying us a house, and everything that come with it, and that, I couldn’t live with.”

There was passion and a glint of steel in his optics, and Sentinel, still hidden in his tree, grimaced. He didn’t understand that kid. Honestly, if his own creators had been rich enough to buy him a comfy apartment on Cybertron, he would have jumped at the chance. But no, young mech in rural villages on backwater planets had to have more pride than common sense and play the secretive twit who make an Elite Guard’s member lost his precious time!

“I do understand, Clearway,” Churn whispered softly, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand.

Clearway looked at him with fondness. “I only want to prove to him, to the world, and to myself, that I can manage everything without his money. I want to be able to become my own mech, not to be defined by who my Sire is. I want to be able to buy and gift you with our own farm, as a Bonding gift. I want you to become the lovely Endura ruling over Flowering Moor, once I have enough to buy it back from the bank at Riverbend, with the money I got with my own hard work. I want to make the farm beautiful again, with its metalloflowers fields and orchards and its hives which produced some of the finest Hydrogen-Honey in the whole county, even better than the one produced at Breezy Heights and Fruitful Orchard!I want to be able to dress you in fabrics I’d have bought with my own money, feed you with the products I’d made grown in my own fields… I don’t want to have to rely on anything from him,” he said as he kissed Churn once again.

“You’re such a brave, courageous and determined mech, Clearway. That’s what I love so much about you,” Steamroller and Rennet’s creation sighed in contentment. “I just wish it wasn’t so long, so that we could finally tell people about us…”

Clearway patted him. “I’m sorry,” he said, obviously contrite. “I’m sorry it takes so long. Tinker pays me well for my work, and you know I saw every credit I can, but buying a farm is harder than it looks.”

“How long do you think it’ll continue?”

“Perhaps one or two more seasons; I’d like to have some supplementary money before I make my move, just in case,” he answered, shrugging.

Churn hummed thoughtfully. “It is lucky, then, that I have my own saving…”

Clearway bristled. “Churn, no! You know I want no help in gathering what we need for Flowering Moor! I wouldn’t find it right if I couldn’t do it by myself! What sort of future Conjunx would I be, if I was unable to do that for you?”

Churn chuckled. “Oh, you silly, prideful mech! Just keep saving for the farm itself, and tell yourself that I’m saving for our future furnitures and our first Electrosheeps,” he said with a grin. “For it is an Endura’s duty and pleasure to furnish and take care of his house, and as a shepherd by trade, you won’t stop me from choosing our herd by myself,” he poked at the slightly larger mech with an amused smile on his lips.

Clearway blinked and started to laugh, even as he hugged Churn. “You’re really the most perfect being I ever encountered! I can’t wait for us to be finally Bonded,” he said tenderly.

“Me neither,” Churn said softly. “Do you remember, back when we were sparklings, when we played at being a couple and having sparklings together?”

Sentinel cringed. Oh Primus, no, let them not speak about…

Clearway smiled. “Of course I remember. We used our dolls as newsparks, and you bounced in my lap, screaming it felt good and that I was the best Conjunx ever,” he chuckled, and Churn chuckled with him as they kissed.

“I can’t wait for the games we played so long ago to become a reality. I… I want to feel you inside me,” he said seriously. “I want you to ‘face me, long and sweetly. I want to be swollen up by your sparklings… our sparklings.” His pressed Clearway’s hand against his abdomen as they kissed.

“It will come, my Love, it will come…”

Sentinel sighed. Yet another false lead, and a night spent outside for nothing. And just to make things ‘better’, he couldn’t get off this tree before the two young mechs left, lest he would get spotted by the ‘happy couple’, which would lead to too many awkward questions. So he was condemned to stay here for an unforeseen amount of time while they were making out. Softly, since apparently interfacing was a big ‘no-no’ so long they weren’t officially engaged to each other, but he was going to have to listen to more poetry and see more kisses and hugs. Perfect. Just… perfect.

“Say,” Churn whimpered between two kisses, “did you ever find more about that ‘ghost’ your brother said he saw?”

Uh? Sentinel blinked and tried to lean forward, very interested. He thought CLEARWAY was the ‘ghost’; had he been incorrect in his deductions?

Clearway frowned. “No. I still haven’t got anything about that, and it really starts to bother me.”

“You’re really sure it wasn’t just you they witnessed?” Churn asked, worried, but Clearway shook his head.

“No, it can’t be me, at least not every times. The dates and times aren’t the same every times. I’m certainly not the one they saw on a misty dawn by the main road, for example.” He narrowed his optics. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I can’t believe Dreamwright was so, so…” he raged. “And the others with him! I really should have gone and told their Creators!”

Unsaid went the fact that if he did, then everybody would have started to look more closely at all of their creations’ moves, including his owns, but Sentinel picked up on that. So that why he hadn’t told anyone; because it could have been a threat to his secrets ‘rendezvous’ with Churn. Tss. Stupid mech, he thought.

“Do you think there’s any danger for them?” Churn asked worriedly.

Clearway frowned thoughtfully. “I… don’t think so, but I’m unsure. It might just be a vagrant not wanting to be seen, but really, if it is one, he should known better. The Temple never turns away from a mech in distress, and Father Spica would be most agreeable to have him live with him and the other priests for a while. On the other end, if he’s a thief…” he trailed off.

“The energon fruits and the crystalberries, you mean? I did hear Pollen and Apis comment that they felt like they had less fruits than usual… You think someone picked them during the night cycle?”

“Possibly,” Clearway nodded. “It’s hard to say for sure at this point. I just don’t believe it’s a real ghost. For me, it’s just a mech hiding, but it’s the ‘why’ he is hiding that worry me. Honest mechs don’t do that. And trust me, if I catch the guy who is running around terrifying the little ones, we will have words.”

Churn looked alarmed. “Oh, Clearway, whatever you do, be careful!”

Clearway kissed him. “Don’t worry, my Love. I always am.”

The other mech looked at him rather dubiously. “Right. Like you were careful when you barged into Fireclay’s burning farm?”

Clearway’s cheeks reddened. “They hadn’t heard me banging at the door! I needed to warn them!”

“I know that, sweetspark. You were a real hero. But you really scared me so much…” Churn looked dismayed, and Clearway had to grimace.

“I’m sorry, Love. I won’t, ever again. I promise you,” he said as he hugged him.

Up in his tree, Sentinel listened to the sentimental drama with barely an audio. His mind was racing. So Clearway wasn’t the one the sparklings had seen, at least, according to him. Or at least, he wasn’t the only one. So that must mean there was another mech, aside of Clearway and Churn, who was walking out at night dressed in a cape. Energon fruits and crystalberries seemed to disappear from orchards, meaning there was an hungry thief around -- and now that he thought about it, Greenlight and Nightglow both had had reflections on it when he had helped them pick up crystalberries at Lacey Lawn. What had slipped his mind then might, perhaps, be an interesting lead to follow now.

He had followed a false lead this night, but it wouldn’t happen again. He swore it!

Now, if only the happy couple could turn their secret meeting short so he could go back home and recharge…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> Families and Sparklings:  
> **
> 
>  
> 
> Threasher. One Sparklings: Rockcrusher  
> Spindle. Several Sparklings; oldest is his apprentice, Whorl  
> Farrier and Nightglow. Three Sparklings: Blueward, Midnite and Lightstream  
> Levitacus, Yoke and Safepath. Seven Sparklings: Arcturus, Clearway, Helix (Femme), Dreamwright, Procyon (by Yoke) and Safelight, Diurna (Femme) (by Safepath)  
> Counterstep and Sterling. Three sparklings: Panacea (Femme and Nurse in training at her Sire's office), Ironwort and Cure  
> Lancer and Greenlight. Three sparklings: Bayonet (Femme), Greenbelt and Moonglade (Femme)  
> Cultivator and Apis. Five Sparklings: Mellifler, Leafcutter, Bolter, Darkbee and Seedleaf  
> Huller and Pollen. Five Sparklings + one on the way: Cisel, Rockrose, Germina (Femme), Carver, Spore (and soon: Brasspetal)  
> Tidalwave and Moonshift. Eleven Sparklings; most are grown ups and have farms or jobs of their own somewhere else. Still living with them: Clunk  
> Baler and Scythe. Eight Sparklings: Peck, Carrow (Femme), Mattock, Sickle, Bugle, Sprinkle, Driveshaft, Bushel  
> Rookwall and Lifespring. Two Sparklings: Cloudhunter, Wildcall  
> Steelflail and Furrow. Eight Sparklings: Steelclaw, Jigger, Barrow, Dibble, Spade, Billhook, Lopper, Axle  
> Stillbarrel and Dewdrop. Six Sparklings: Nectarbead Femme), Raindrop and Honeydrop (Femmes and Twins), Rainbarrel, Ethyl (Femme), Aquavitae (Femme)  
> Quarterstaff and Tiller. Five Sparklings: Harrow, Pikestaff, Maintstay, Flashlight, Plowshare  
> Groundsplint and Roller. Two Sparklings: Bluegrass, Dustcloud  
> Brimstone and Shock. Nine sparklings; most are grown ups and have farms or jobs of their own somewhere else. Still living with them: Weedkiller, Canker  
> Smokefall and Shimmersun. Four Sparklings: Evenfall, Sunblaze, Razzle, Flameout (Femme)  
> Auger and Mistcover. Seven Sparklings: Bract, Chromewire, Firn (Femme), Snowdrift, Twistdrill, Piercel, Brume (Femme)  
> Steamroller and Rennet. Six Sparklings: Churn, Reed, Quickstep, Steampipe, Clump and Lana (Mech and Femme Twins)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where news are shared and there are some talks behind Sentinel's back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today. Actually, the next two or three chapters should be on the short side too, before I publish a bigger one; scenes wouldn't have as much impact if I didn't.
> 
> **EDIT:**  
>  My sister did some fanarts/sketches for 'Undercover'; you can find them here: http://yami-samuraiflo.livejournal.com/56655.html

Another day, yet another Enduras reunion where he had nothing better to do than uselessly spend his time by working on a new dress and listening to gossip -- which mainly turned around each present Endura’s respective Conjunx and their sexual prowesses, or about their respective sparklings. Sentinel tried not to sigh. He was starting to really hate these ‘get-together’ with passion. He didn’t want to have to think about Bulkhead and the fragging they did every. Freaking. Solar. Cycle.

Almost three decacycles after he had followed Clearway in the woods only to find out the young mech was secretly meeting with his ‘sweetspark’, and there had been no further progresses.

The Prime had tried to patrol the area at night, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive ghost, to no avail. He had checked on orchards and fields, trying to see if anything was amiss, without noticing anything out of the ordinary. As for the expensive and ultra performance surveillance material of the Intelligence Division, it had yet to record anything, even the weakest Decepticon signal!... Well, it had recorded what was obviously weak Spark signals, indicating there WERE indeed a Decepticon or two in the area, but it hadn’t been able to pinpoint them, and without radio transmission or direct contact with the source of the signals, it probably never would.

“... just lifted my skirt and started to frag me immediately, right there, in the kitchen! I could just cling to the edge of the table and pray the dishes wouldn’t fall to the ground,” he heard Safepath giggle, a giggle about everybody else joined in. It was rare, but for once, the Mayor’s second Endura had taken some time to come and join them, and was treating them with his latest ‘experiences’ with Levitacus. And Yoke.

And Sentinel could have lived reaaaaaallly long without knowing about some of the, hum, ‘finer points’ of a threesome.

“Are you trying for a third, then?” Scythe asked with a grin.

Safepath nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh yes, of course! I have good hopes I’ll find myself heavy by the end of the next year. I can’t have Yoke beat me,” he said jokingly, referring to the fact that Levitacus’ first Endura had already given him five sparklings, whereas Safepath had barely birthed two.

There were coos and soft laughs and approving comments, several mechs stating they themselves were actually trying for a fourth/five/sixth/… fragging too many already for the Prime’s peace of mind.

Nightglow voice cut through the chattering neatly. “For my part, I will not need to try anymore,” he said, positively glowing. Everybody turned toward him, including Sentinel, who thought he was going to choke. Surely not…?

The dark colored mech pressed a hand against his abdomen and smiled widely. “Farrier and I went to see Counterstep this morning, and he has confirmed it. I’m with Spark,” he said, beaming.

Everybody paused, like struck. Sterling, who was also assisting to the reunion for once -- and Sentinel would have rather had as little contacts as possible with him, after he had assisted to his Conjunx capping him -- confirmed it with a smile. “It’s true; I was here when they came. Our Nightglow is carrying a very healthy, two orbital cycles-old newspark,” he said with some pride.

Room exploded in noises and congratulations, several mechs and femmes abandoning their needlework temporarily to go hug the newly revealed Carrier. Sentinel just stayed frozen in his seat, mind spinning.

Let these mechas think it was good news if they wanted. And let Nightglow rejoice, if that made him happy to be some sort of brood mare -- and he indeed looked happy, so let’s not rain on the parade, Sentinel’s CPU flashed.

Still, it reminded him of something else he’d have rather forgotten.

His contraceptives chips stock was lowering at a worrisome rate, and he was getting more and more nervous as time went, silently counting the solar cycles until the last one was used up. At the most, he was free from ‘accidents’ for one more orbital cycles… if he let a few solar cycles pass between the moment a chip was used and the next installed, but Sentinel wasn’t ready to risk it. So, three decacyles was a closer estimation of the truth. Four to five chips.

Once they were gone… frag, he didn’t want to think about it at all! And getting reminded of interfacing, sparklings and carrying cycles was just getting on his processor! The beaming Pollen’s looks, as his sparkling’s emergence neared, was only annoying him even more. The worst, though? It was that he was fully expected to come and help with said emergence. Local custom; he had to be ‘trained’, just in case Counterstep or Panacea couldn’t be present to oversee the process, like every Endura. He did not want to! But unfortunately, he had little choice in the matter, just like in about everything else.

“And you Sentinel?”

The Prime startled as he looked around him. Everybody was looking at him eagerly. He swallowed and tried to smile. “Ah, uh, sorry? I was so… caught up in my thoughts I didn’t hear your question. Could you repeat please?”

Mistcover smiled at him. “We were wondering, when do you think you’ll get your first little one?”

… He’d have prefered not to hear that at all; no surprise his mind had refused to acknowledge him while he was thinking. The Prime’s face froze. “I… uh, it’s… It’s a bit unexpected… I… I sincerely don’t know what to say.”

Aside of the fact he didn’t want to carry a little one, that he was on contraceptives to make sure it wouldn’t happen, either, and that he and Bulkhead weren’t a real couple, even if they were lovers -- not that it pleased him and he really could have done without if his body didn’t keep betraying him and energon farmers weren’t crazy about fragging in public, but given how much they fragged, in public or not, it was hard to deny this part.

Roller smiled encouragingly. “Oh, come one, you must have have some idea?”

Sentinel shook his head with a strained smile. “No, really, I… Bulkhead and I have no idea of when a… little one will come,” he said trying not to gulp.

Everybody seemed to deflate a bit at that. Sentinel almost raised an optic ridge. What, were they expecting him to announce he was carrying too right now, like Nightglow? Sorry, but no, and he never had any intention of doing so. No bitlet for him, ever.

“Well,” Safepath said, “just keep trying. I’m sure Primus will bless you in time. And who knows, perhaps His blessing will come sooner than you intended?”

Sterling hummed thoughtfully. “You know, if you want to, I’m sure Counterstep will check you both for free. Just to see if there isn’t a problem,” he offered amiably. “He could also give you advices on how to conceive a bitlet faster,” he added. “Why, with a good diet and some supplements to increase your fertility, I’m sure you’ll see your gestational chamber full before you have time to blink.”

Moonshift nodded. “A good diet might help, but there are positions which facilitate conception too. Why don’t you and Bulkhead come and see us at Mirror Lake? I’ve a book with very good illustrations I could lend you. Better yet, why don’t I bring it to you?”

Roller looked at him eagerly. “Would you mind if I got a look too? Groundsplint and I are also trying for a third, and I wouldn’t mind augmenting our chances.”

“I see no objection to that,” Moonshift said with a nod. “So, Sentinel? What do you think of my offer?”

“R… right,” Sentinel stammered. “It… it’s very… generous of you. But… if you don’t mind, we’ll keep trying on our own, and come to see you and your Conjunx if it keeps taking too long,” Sentinel assured with a wince. Frag, they all seemed to be determined at seeing him carrying! Couldn’t they focus on themselves and let him be?

Moonshift and Sterling nodded gravely. “You do that, dear.”

Thankfully, Sentinel thought in relief, the conversation soon turned toward other subjects. Everybody was gushing over Nightglow and exchanging tips about carrying cycles and how to make them easier and be sure to carry an healthy newspark. The ‘regular transfluid donations’ thing left him flushing and trying very hard not to cringe; did these guys never stop interfacing?

He felt rather relieved when the conversation gradually turned toward yet others ‘juicy pieces of gossip’ -- though it did occasionally return to interfacing and gestational cycles. Sentinel noted different things down in his processors, like the fact Shimmersun had received a letter from his Conjunx, who was apparently doing well and hoped to be back soon. Moonshift and Pollen commented eagerly about the courtship of two of their respective offspring, Clunk and Cisel -- and hadn’t that been a surprise for Sentinel, who hadn’t even noticed there was an ‘official’ couple among the elder younglings? He was tempted to share the news about Clearway and Churn too, but decided against it as he realized he would have had to explain how he knew that and openly say he had been spying on them would probably not be well received. Spindle was scheduled for another visit soon and should brought back bolts of Helio-Cotton and Electrosheeps wool.

There were also talks about the upcoming Harvest Festival, and that one, Sentinel was wary off. After the last one, he didn’t think he wanted to be ‘Queen’ of a Festival ever again. Hopefully, they would pass Bulkhead and he over and go bother someone else to lord over the ceremonies and be the ‘Avatars of Primus’.

Frankly, when Bulkhead came to pick him up early on pretense of needing his help to plow a field they needed to reseed soon, he jumped on the occasion to go. The Prime wasn’t a coward, but since everyone seemed to start to get focused about the fact he wasn’t carrying yet and wanted to offer tips for easy conception -- such as the exact way each one of their sparklings had been conceived -- he had desperately needed an excuse to go.

He could have kissed Bulkhead right away for the save! … A hug was sufficient, he decided in the end as they gave their farewells and let the door of Happy Vale close behind them. Sentinel sighed. Finally, he was free! He wouldn’t have to be subjected to small talks about subjects he didn’t care about for the rest of the solar cycle, nor for a couple of days!

What he didn’t realize, though, was that even if he wasn’t subjected to these talks anymore, he could still be the subject of said talks.

As soon as their Zap-Horses cart left the property and that Nightglow came back to sit and continue the cape he had been working on -- a gift for his Conjunx -- everybody started to buzz in conversation again.

“Really, I don’t understand why Sentinel isn’t sparked yet,” Roller said. “I mean, they’ve been Bonded for what, four orbital cycles and half now? I know for a fact I was carrying Dustcloud not even an orbital cycle after my own Bonding, and I think pretty much everybody here didn’t have to wait for more than two, right?”

Sterling made a small sound. “Well, almost everyone; myself or Lifespring took five to seven. However, the circumstances were very different, I agree. Counterstep, my darling mech, was so busy with his work that he couldn’t find much time to spend with me. It was the reverse for Lifespring; he was so busy he had hardly any time for his Conjunx, and Primus know how much we were willing!” He shook his head. “Really, it is unusual for Sentinel to still be flat when we all know how devoted he and Bulkhead are to each other.”

The mechs and femmes present nodded. They all could attest how often Sentinel rode his Conjunx’s spike, whenever they met with their Conjunx present. Besides, they still gave Sentinel ‘special treats’ to make sure he and Bulkhead kept an healthy interface life and didn’t stay irritated at each other long. It seemed to work too; the blue mech rarely frowned anymore at his handsome Conjunx. Sentinel seemed to have settled so well among them now! Why, he was even growing to like their creations enough to bake them homemade treats once in a while!

That, of course, resulted more of savant manipulations of the mech by their offsprings than any genuine feelings from Sentinel, but they had no way of knowing that.

“Are you sure he isn’t barren?” Greenlight asked anxiously. Everybody exchanged nervous looks. To be unable to bear sparklings… it would be so atrocious!

But Sterling shook his head. “I don’t think so. Counterstep had made a quick check up on both him and Bulkhead when they settled here at first, just before their Bonding ceremony, and their tests didn’t show anything unusual. As far as we could see, their reproductive nanites were in perfect working order.”

“Perhaps… perhaps it’s because he’s from Cybertron?” offered Nightglow shyly. “I mean, he did mention the citybots there had less sparklings, so perhaps…?” he trailed off.

Moonshift snorted. “Don’t be silly, dear. Being from the city or Core worlds doesn’t have that much influence on fertility. There have been Citybots coming to reside here, and they never had any trouble having as many sparklings as us, and just as fast.”

“Yes, but more often than not, they were Sires. Who’s to say that it isn’t different with Carriers?” Mistcover pointed out.

Sterling shook his head again. “It isn’t. Remember, in Primus’ Gift, the mech Mayor Fairwind Bonded to? He’s a Minibot from Cybertron. They’ve been together for about 200 vorns now, and they have seven sparklings. So no, it definitely had nothing to do with being from Cybertron.”

There was a small silence as everyone pondered that.

“... I can’t help but feel sad for them,” Greenlight sighed. “A little one would be just what they need to really feel at home! Bulkhead always looks so wistful when he see our bitlets play, and Sentinel… there must be a good reasons for him to be so nice with our creations. How much they must long to be Creators…”

Safepath nodded. “And they want a lot, I’m sure. Why, Sentinel even asked me for a good carpenter to extend Shady Acres, so that must mean they’re hoping for a large brood.”

“I sincerely hope Primus will allow them that gift soon,” Nightglow commented wistfully as he rubbed his still flat abdomen. Now that he had officially announced he was carrying, he would need to change dress and wore more appropriate ones, which would indicate his state. “He already was generous with us by allowing us that fourth, I can’t believe he wouldn’t do the same thing for such a nice couple.”

There were nods. “I’m sure he would make a great Carrier and that he must already dream of the day he is,” Sterling said quietly.

“I dare say that this friend of them who came to visit them must feel the same thing,” Pollen noted as he sipped on some oil.

“Oh? You mean that Optimus mech you said Sentinel seemed cross with?” Safepath commented airily as he nibbled on a Cobalt-Cupcake.

“The very one,” Pollen confirmed. “You haven’t seen him, but… the look in his optics. He seemed so much in awe at feeling my bitlet kick, and there was so much longing in his optics…” he shook his head. “Really, I know I don’t know what the Autobots are doing on Cybertron, but I sincerely hope this nice mech will leave the place or find himself a good mate who will take care of him and give him sparklings to love and raise.”

“Primus always see that we find someone,” Moonshift said calmly. “This mech will find his one, I’m sure.”

“Actually, from what Bulkhead told me, he may have,” Nightglow commented, making everybody coo. They were always happy to hear about a couple forming, even if they didn’t know personally the ones involved.

“Is that so? Who is it?” Greenlight asked eagerly.

“Well, according to Bulkhead, Optimus may have a crush on someone from their old Maintenance Crew,” Pollen said, as he also knew about that. “However, Optimus hasn’t dared to tell him yet.”

There were disappointed sounds. “Why the Pit not?” Roller asked, frowning.

Pollen and Nightglow exchanged a look. “Well, apparently… Optimus doesn’t think he had a chance. The mech he’s crushing on have apparently found back an old friend he cared deeply about recently, and Optimus seems to think he loves her.” Murmurs and sad sighs abounded. “Bulkhead isn’t so sure, but unfortunately, he said he couldn’t do much, just hope that the two will find a chance to talk.”

“Hmm, perhaps he and Sentinel could invite them over for a few solar cycles? Find a way for them to have a romantic get-together?” Greenlight suggested.

Nightglow bit his lip. “The idea sounds nice, but they’re apparently very busy mechs. And, well… Sentinel might not be quite be amenable to the idea just yet.”

Several people blinked. “Why not? From what you said, Optimus sounds like a very nice mech, and he’s a friend to Bulkhead, so Sentinel should be happy to see him if it makes his Conjunx happy, no?”

Pollen and Nightglow coughed, before Nightglow explained. “Actually… Optimus was a friend of Sentinel before he was even friend with Bulkhead. He and Sentinel went to Autoboot Camp together.”

Mistcover frowned. “I thought Sentinel was a secretary. What was he doing in Autoboot Camp?”

Moonshift glanced at him as he answered, remembering something. “All mechs wanting to integrate the Autobot ranks must first pass by the Autoboot Camp, so they can at least acquire some self-defence skills, no matter where they end up. Most don’t see combat, but they’re required to know how to defend themselves at the very least, so I suppose it’s normal for Sentinel to have gone through basic training.”

There were small ‘oh’ as everyone let the information sink. So Sentinel had some combat training? It was good to know… if a bit unexpected. Nightglow nodded and continued. “Exactly. As I said, Optimus and Sentinel used to be good friends with a Femme in their class. Unfortunately, an accident happened, and she offlined.” Now, there was general sounds of mourning and sympathy. “Bulkhead didn’t share the details, of course, since it’s so private, but… apparently, Sentinel blamed Optimus for some of what happened, and, well… he apparently still does, so their relationship is a bit… strained.”

Safepath blinked. “Why would he blame him? Was he really involved or responsible?”

Pollen shrugged. “Apparently, no, but Nightglow and I gathered that Optimus had to make a choice between saving either that friend or Sentinel, and…” The rest went unsaid as mechs exchanged grim looks.

It was a choice they were familiar with, unfortunately, though not with friends. Sometimes, when emergences were hard, came the time where a medic and creators had to decide between the life of the Carrier or the life of the Sparkling. It was ugly, and never easy, and sparkbreaking, but it happened. Mechas who food themselves in this position always hurt so much…

“To be still angry at that Optimus after so much time… was Sentinel… was Sentinel in love with her?” Roller dared to ask. Apparently, the question was on everybody’s processors.

“It’s hard to say, since we didn’t know them back them and still don’t know some of the characters involved, but my better guess is… yes, yes, I think Sentinel must have held tender feelings for that Femme, whoever she was.”

So sad, so bittersweet. Everybody reflected on it for a moment.

“It is lucky, then, that he found a new love in Bulkhead,” Safepath said quietly. “It must have helped him to get over the ache.” Everybody nodded grimly. He continued. “In a way, it’s rather a good sign, now? It must means that time is finally starting to heal the old injuries, and that he and that Optimus fellow are… well, they have a chance to rekindle their friendship.”

Nightglow bit his lips. “I hope you’re right. I think nothing would please Bulkhead more, but Sentinel is apparently very stubborn about this matter.”

“Only fools never change their minds,” Moonshift cut in. “Give it enough time and enough opportunities for them to talk and reconnect, and they’ll forget about that bad past they share. Besides, once Sentinel is heavy with a sparkling or having a few running around, he’ll be too busy caring for them to continue to hold to old hatred. I’ve seen it before.”

Pollen sighed. “I hope you’re right, Moonshift. It would certainly be nice to have them reconnect and be friendly.”

“Trust me,” Moonshift insisted. “I know I’m right.”

Mechs and femmes exchanged looks. Moonshift was one of the oldest mech in town, so he certainly knew what he was speaking about. They hoped.

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Greenlight hummed, “if they did reconcile and that that Optimus and his suitor came to leave here? It could be fun to have another family living here.”

Pollen chuckled. “It could be so, but really, I don’t think it’s possible. They’re not energon farmers, either of them, so I doubt they’d really be interested.”

“So what? Farming can be learned; look at Sentinel! A couple of orbital cycles ago he knew nothing of farm life, and look at him now!” the femme insisted with force. “And I would like to remind you that there is a couple in Primus’ Wish that come from the city and they do make good farmers! Why, they do a very good Electo-matoes sauce they sell on the market!”

The other Enduras exchanged amused smiles as they remember who the mechs that Greenlight talked about were. A nice couple, certainly, but they weren’t Core-World citybots like Bulkhead and Sentinel’s friends probably were. They made decent enough farmers, certainly, but they had had some notions of farming and raising mechanimals and mechanicrops even before coming to Agri III.

Though, they supposed, with good teachers… Perhaps by working first on someone else farm as workmechs, just long enough to teach them the ropes… If they received some help to take care of their mechanimals and fields… if they were willing and hard workers… Yes, perhaps a couple of clueless citibots could turn into decent farmers.

Roller, much more cynical, snorted. “Keep dreaming, dear. Not that it isn’t a nice dream, but really! What are the chances it’ll actually happen someday?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentinel 'enjoys' another Festival Day in Primus' Blessing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder:
> 
>  
> 
> You can find a few sketches of OC characters here: http://yami-samuraiflo.livejournal.com/56655.html

:: _I thought I told you I didn’t want to be the ‘Queen’ of a ‘Festival’ ever again!_ :: Sentinel barked over the comm link.

Bulkhead flinched slightly. :: _I, uh… I had forgotten?_ :: he said impishly. It only made Sentinel growl and look at him with a murdering glare. Not that it scared Bulkhead too much; after so much time receiving that kind of look, he had gotten pretty used to it.

Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice just how disgruntled Sentinel was. Everyone was too busy chatting, and the Enduras were too busy trying to cover themselves properly to say anything.

The last Harvest Festival of the year was… special. Every Festival had some deep meaning and symbolism ingrained in its ceremonies, but the ‘Planting/Seeding Festival’ much more than the others. Enduras were supposed to symbolize the soil, ready to be seeded anew… and the seeds was represented by the transfluid all the Conjunx would spill on the ‘Queen’, while Bulkhead, as ‘King’, would in turn spill his ‘seeds’ on their own mates.

There was a double symbolism here, for the Queen of the Festival, the one who represented the earth, could either be the most fertile Endura in town… or one who had trouble bearing a sparkling. In the first case, it symbolized rich harvests past and to come, since the ‘earth’ had been ‘generous’ and everybody hoped it would remain so. In the second, well… farmers usually hoped that getting blessed by Primus on the event would allow the Endura playing ‘Queen’ to conceive soon.

Bulkhead hadn’t told Sentinel as much, too afraid of the Prime’s reaction should he learn about that. He was already complaining hard enough about the fact everybody seemed obsessed by the fact he wasn’t carrying yet, without Bulkhead adding his two cents in revealing it was yet another ploy to favorise a pregnancy.

Originally, from what the green mech had gathered, Roller or Safepath had been the most likely candidates for Queen, and their Conjunx for Kings. Then, two decacycles ago, it seemed that Sentinel’s still flat abdomen had gathered a lot of concerns and well, when Father Spica and Sister Ara had approached him and asked him if he and Sentinel would consent to become King and Queen again, he had agreed without a second thought. Because, well, because it would have been suspicious if he hadn’t, given that he should be concerned over the fact his Bonded still wasn’t sparked.

It had nothing to do with the fact he had wanted to be King of a Festival again. Nope. It wasn’t because it was such a big honor, nope. Beside, he couldn’t be crowned King of the next one, as for this one, the Queen had to be carrying for it, and Sentinel wasn’t… and didn’t plan to. His shoulders almost sagged as he thought about it. Sentinel wasn’t a very nice mech on the whole, but he was a good frag, and when Bulkhead managed to make him shut up and listen, and when he wasn’t in a foul mood to begin with, the Prime could be surprisingly… agreeable.

And, well… since a while now, he kinda… dreamed… of Sentinel with a nice, round abdomen, heavy with his sparkling and smiling lovingly at him, in a fine dress Bulkhead would have bought just for him, with frills and ribbons, and little bows on his helmstacks. Wistful thinking, he knew, but it still was a nice dream to him, especially when he could almost feel the little one kick inside its Carrier’s gestational chamber, in a hurry to get out and discover the world…

Bulkhead shook his head. It wasn’t going to happen yet at any rate, and probably never. For now, he tried to concentrate and focus on what was happening around him. Sentinel stopped to glare only to pull at the loincloth he was clad in while maintaining the cape on his shoulders as tightly as possible with his other hand. For some reason, the Prime thought the traditional ceremonial cloth was too short, though Bulkhead didn’t think so. It almost reached the knees and hide well Sentinel’s bare valve, so it was okay. The loincloth was of rich fabric and full of colors, and Sentinel did look good in it, or so he thought. Not as good as he did in the latest pair of crotchless panties Bulkhead had bought just for him -- he just… hadn’t been able to resist the smooth, intricate pair when he had seen it among the clothes for Enduras sold by a travelling merchant, and it was considered a proper present from a Conjunx to his Endura. Sentinel had been less than amused, but since he had few panties as it was and refused to go without to save some of the tattered remains of his dignity, a new one was, if not welcome, then a least not refused --, but good still.

A part of him was very glad Sentinel held so strongly to the cape, trying to hide more of his body, like the other Enduras. After so long wearing their dresses, most of them didn’t feel comfortable, and even ashamed, at being seen out of them. Not that it was indecent, of course, since one couldn’t see their valves or their sparks, and that they had nothing to hide aside of that, but… Well, it was a subconscious thing, Bulkhead supposed. That was why, to not reveal themselves too much, Enduras usually wore capes until the ceremony started properly.

He looked again at Sentinel, who was still trying to desperately pull on his loincloth, and his spike twitched behind his panel. He wouldn’t have minded taking him now… but it would have to learn until later.

“Bulkhead? Sentinel?” Father Spica said as he came near them. “We’re ready to begin. Would you follow me, please?”

Bulkhead nodded gravely while Sentinel twitched but wisely held his glossa. Bulkhead took his hand and started to drag him along. ::I. Don’t. Want. To. Do. It!:: the Prime send over the comm link.

Bulkhead almost sighed. ::Well, no choice now, so stop dragging your pedes and come. The sooner it’s done, the sooner it’ll be over and the sooner we’ll be able to go back home.::

Sentinel grumbled but started to walk on his own. As they followed Father Spica, other couples started to follow them as in a procession as they walked in the hallways and stairways of the Temple. For such a small village, it certainly was a large edifice, but then again, it had been a Convent at some point, almost 500,000 vorns ago. Bulkhead wasn’t too sure why it had closed down, but the building had remained consecrate, and as the village build itself around the it, it became a Temple, with its numerous sacred altars and its sacred pond.

It was to the pond they were going right now.

Ritual cleaning should follow the, uh, ‘seeding’, and it was easier to just let everything happen around the basin than just let a mech parade everywhere covered in transfluid, which some mechas really objected to, despite being honored to be the one chosen as ‘Queen’.

Sentinel’s relief at seeing the clean, translucide water was almost palpable. His shoulders actually sagged and his whole face mellowed in an almost longful look. Bulkhead shuffled a bit in guilt. He knew how much Sentinel liked to be and feel clean. The coming… event… was going to be a trial for him, he just knew. He really ought to make something nice for the Prime, though he had no idea what. A new polish rag and wax and expensive solvents, perhaps? Uh, he couldn’t contact High Command or the Intelligence Division directly, but he was allowed to send letters to mechs he knew -- as it would have been weird if he had cut all contacts with friends and family. He just couldn’t mention anything about the mission and its progresses, since it could easily be intercepted. Sentinel had eventually send his excuses to Optimus this way -- after several eventful night cycles that had definitely left him crossed with Bulkhead for a while.

Hmm, perhaps he should ask for some to Ratchet or Optimus and ask them to send him some? He was allowed to receive simple package, right? Other farmers did, after all, and even send lots; Stillbarrel always received or send boxes to friends, and Shimmersun send homemade energon treats and warm capes and blankets to his Conjunx, to say nothing of, well, about every Enduras sending baked goods to their relatives living in other parts of the planet.

Yes, he decided as Father Spica took Sentinel’s hands and lead him away from him, indicating he had to kneel as the Conjunx made a circle around the Prime just as their Enduras made a circle around him, all removing their capes to reveal their ‘naked’ bodies. Most were looking at him in expectation, waiting for him to release his spike and touch himself, so they would receive the ‘seeds’ that would, hopefully, make them fertile.

His panel slide off with barely a thought as they all started muttering prayers, making a buzzing sounds as the noise amplified, their Conjunx also praying loudly around Sentinel. Their own spikes were already out and they touched themselves carefully as they whispered. Bulkhead readily started to do the same thing, his optics shuttered as he tried to concentrate on something pleasant to speed things along. Something pleasant, like Sentinel’s aft as he was bending over…

:: _Just for the record,_ :: the Prime send him over their comm. link, :: _I do hate you so much I can’t even properly say it._ ::

Well, nothing new here, Bulkhead thought as he lighted his optics and threw a quick glance at the other circle. Sentinel knelt in the center, hands joined as if praying, optics shuttered and looking rather crossed -- though nobody called him up on that. Someone had obviously already released his load, if the Space Bridge Technician had to judge by the silvery-pink splatters on one of the Prime’s arms.

:: _... would that help if I made it up to you later?_ :: he asked.

:: _Unless you plan to rip off the spike of every mech present here, I hardly think you’ll be able to,_ :: the Prime snarled unhappily.

:: _... would three boxes of premium HyperCleaner with special cleaning rags and assorted cans of wax work? Plus a ticket for a full day at the spas on the Moons of Velocitron?_ :: he risked out as he saw Sentinel grimace when a jet of sticky liquid caught him across the cheek. He hoped the spas would be a good deterrent. It was a very prized destination, especially for bots who cared about maintenance and relaxation and general cleanness. Mechs from all the Commonwealth dreamed of a solar-cycle or even a full week at the famous spas, but it was expensive and the wait for a place was long. Bulkhead didn’t doubt that a neat freak like Sentinel would like it.

Sentinel paused over the comm. link. :: _... And how would you be able to pay for that?_ :: he said, clearly not believing him the slightest.

:: _Got a cousin who work there; he sometimes get invites he shares with family members,_ :: Bulkhead explained. :: _I could get you one._ ::

There was a pause as Sentinel seemed to consider the idea, even as other jets of transfluid hit his frame. Bulkhead himself let transfluid burst out of his own spike and spray the Enduras around him, rotating to be able to touch as many as possible as he continued touching himself. 

:: _... for three days at the spas and five boxes, and I won’t force you to sleep on the couch,_ :: the Prime grunted, and Bulkhead almost beamed. Coming from Sentinel, it was probably the closest from an acknowledgement he would get. 

And well, the couch was a moot point; given how Sentinel keep eating aphrodisiacs-laced treats -- and shouldn’t he have suspected something by now? Not that Bulkhead minded, because the interfacing was great, but still… Sentinel wasn’t an idiot… not a TOTAL idiot… but then again, the Prime was known to see things the way he wanted to see them, not for trying to seek out the truth behind everything. If he was still convinced he had caught a virus, he would probably never suspect there could be another cause to his increased libido. Not when Enduras didn’t even speak about it; of course, they didn’t need to, either, since they interfaced readily with their Conjunx whenever they wanted, not like Sentinel --, the Prime would never be able to chase him off the berth without running at him shortly after. 

The air filled with little moans as mechs reached release. Sentinel, still in the middle of the Conjunx’ circle, was clenching his jaws, optics shuttered and fist tightened as jets after jets of fluids drenched him from every side. The sight it made was… peculiar. Hmm, he wondered if Sentinel would like him to help clean himself? He could help him pass the sponge in hardly reachable areas… It could be fun… tender… loving… perfect way for some foreplays? 

That thought made him overload once more, spilling his fluids generously around. 

The best was, he wouldn’t even need to wait until they were back to Shady Acres for that. Bulkhead glanced at the sacred pond with a small smile. Oh yes, it would be so perfect… 

He continued touching himself for a while, as the prayers continued. By the time a gong resonated through the Temple, indicating there was only a megacycle left until the end of the solar cycle, Bulkhead was already turning all his thoughts toward the best way to please Sentinel. Prayers stopped around him and mechs and femmes got back to their pedes, bodies generously sprayed with his transfluid and faces proud. Some giggled and chatted airily, commenting on who had received most transfluid on him or herself, and loudly hoping that the ones who did would find themselves very fertile in the coming year. 

Sentinel, for his part, remained kneeling on the floor, optics shuttered and jaw clenched. He was covered in transfluid, barely an inch of his plating spared of the strains. The Conjunx had been… thorough and generous in their ‘duties’. Not doubt, their Enduras had told them how important it was; the more a Queen or an Endura was covered in transfluid, the more the ‘earth’ was ‘seeded’, and the more a mecha’s fertility would increase. Or so it was said. Yep, it was definitely something he would never tell Sentinel if he could help it. Bulkhead walked to him as the Enduras and Conjunx broke the circles and joined each other, hugging. 

“Come on, Sentinel, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said gently as he took the Prime’s hands in his own to get him to his feet. Sentinel didn’t resist. In fact, the moment he heard the word ‘clean’, he was practically leaping to his feet without any help. Bulkhead wondered idly how long five cases of solvent and scented wax would actually last with that mech, but thought better than saying it aloud. 

With care, he lead Sentinel to the steps leading down the pond and helped him take them without slipping. Bulkhead even grabbed a large sponge on the edge as they entered. The water was lukewarm, which was rather pleasant and not uncomfortable at all. Together, they progressed to the middle of the basin, followed by the other couples who surrounded them. So clear the moment before, the water was now slightly colored with the diluted transfluid that had covered frames. 

Sentinel grimaced a bit in disgust and opened his mouth to say something, but Bulkhead hushed him and discreetly pointed out to the Sisters and Pastors. The fours mechas had placed themselves at the corners of the basin, each holding a large jar over their shoulders. 

Father Spica came to the edge of the pond and coughed to clear his vocalize as mechs fell quiet. 

Bulkhead only paid half attention to the speech he started to make. Once again, it spoke of Primus, of his love and gifts to them. He spoke of the generous amount of ‘seeds’ given tonight, which would, he didn’t doubt, come into fruition in the year, giving them a good harvest and hopefully blessing the couples with yet more bitlets. The usual, really, and though Bulkhead thanked Primus aloud each time he was supposed to, when Father Spica made a pause in his sermon, his optics and processor were still focused on Sentinel. 

His spike was already fully extended again, and he just couldn’t wait to bury himself into his pretty Endura. 

So it was with immense relief he thanked Primus once more and Father Spice finished his sermon, noting it was not time for ‘watering the seeds and washing the earth away’. 

With that, Bulkhead started to rub the sponge in earnest on Sentinel, starting with his arms, even as he kept the Prime against him with an arm around his waist. His spike pressed against the Prime’s thigh and Sentinel was trying to push him away, obviously unhappy. 

“Frag it, Bulkhead,” he grumbled, trying not to raise his voice too much. “I can clean myself just fine! Just give me the damn sponge!” 

“But I want to help,” Bulkhead said, almost pouting, before he started to kiss Sentinel to silence his protestation, not minding the transfluid strains on his cheeks -- it was always a good method with the Prime; when he started to grumble, find a way to silence him, and kisses or blowjobs were the best way to. Swiftly, he started to rub the sponge against Sentinel’s back and shifted, making sure to also rub his spike smoothly between Sentinel’s legs. 

The Prime flushed and tried once again to get away. “Bu… Bulkhead! Not here!” he insisted, only to cut himself off and raise his optics to the ceiling as he recognized the tell-tales sounds of a couple starting to interface in the water right next to them. It was followed by another couple, and yet another and another… 

“Of course,” Sentinel half-sighed, half-cringed. “There’s always interfacing involved, and I can’t escape it.” 

“But you like it, Love,” Bulkhead said teasingly, earning himself a very unimpressed look. Bulkhead didn’t mind; he knew he was right. Despite all his protests, Sentinel did enjoy overloading, he just knew it -- and even if he hadn’t in the beginning, it would be really hard for him not to now, given how often they interfaced. 

Chuckling in good humor, the green mech continued to clean Sentinel, the sponge going everywhere, tracking the smallest amount of dirt and fluid on his frame. The Prime relaxed gradually, obviously put at ease by his new cleanliness. He barely even protested when Bulkhead caught him by the hips, pushed the loincloth to the side and lifted him just enough to bury his spike into him properly. 

Sponge discarded, standing tall in the middle of the pool with Sentinel in his arms, the Prime’s legs firmly tied around his waist as he rocked his hips and made him moan in ecstasy, Bulkhead panted, struggling to not overload too soon, wanting to make the moment last as long as possible. Sentinel was seeded and watered, the perfect ‘growing soil’ for a bitlet to develop; he couldn’t exactly tell that to the Prime, but interfacing in the sacred pool was traditionally done for this purpose. 

Bulkhead felt a bit tired but happy as he made love to his Endura, the water rippling around them as Sentinel quietly moaned. The Festival was turning out exactly like he had imagined. Now, if it could have really been for real, with Sentinel really being his Bonded and, who knew, carrying his sparkling, it could have been perfect... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
>  
> 
> • Harvest Festivals;  
> Energon farmers usually hold four Harvest Festivals by year. They start as a family holidays, with large meals prepared by the townfolks with local crops and shared evenly. A plate of each dish is put on Primus’ altars, so he can eat the meal they prepared with the crops he so generously gave them. Kids spend the day playing. Adults dances, chat,... Then celebrations turn toward thanking Primus at night. A King and a Queen of harvest are elected; they’re the ones who start the fragging or are given special roles, different with each festival. They’re considered blessed by Primus after they’re purified by the priests, just before the main ceremonies start.  
> ‘Winter’ Harvest Festival: mainly considered as a ritual to ‘fertilize' the earth. The Queen (who symbolizes earth) receives on him/her the transfluid of all ‘Conjunx/males' participants (who ‘seed’ the earth anew), while the King ‘seeds’ the ‘Endura/female’ participants in turn. Couples then enters a sacred pool to clean up and eventually interface, hoping the 'seeds' will take and allow them a fruitful coming year and/or a Sparkling...


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentinel learns about and solves one of the town little 'mysteries': well, it was a mystery for him, anyway...

“... and then would you believe it, we noticed that there actually was a hole in the enclosure’s fence, and that was how they kept getting out! Baler had to spend his whole afternoon repairing the fence while our creations and I run after the escaped Robo-chickens,” Scythe said, shaking his head as he finished a last stitch.

There were sad whispers and head shaken. “Did they get into the fields?” Sentinel asked, almost curious.

Scythe shook his head. “Thankfully, no; they mainly wandered in the courtyard and some even went in the pasture where we kept the BerylliumBulls and the Zap-Horses, but they didn’t have time to reach the fields themselves.”

“You were lucky,” Greenlight noted. “A single Robo-chicken can cause quite a few damages to plants if he isn’t caught in time.”

There were nods of approbations and anecdotes shared.

Sentinel mentally sighed and added it to the tally he was keeping. So far, it was the… 20th incident he had heard of on Baler and Scythe’s farm, Sweet Dale, since their arrival. It was very curious. On the other end, he could count almost as many incidents over Serene Meadows, Steelflail and Furrow’s farm. Sentinel remembered having been very suspicious at first of all the coincidental strokes of bad luck the two couples went through, but in the end, he had ended shrugging it off, only thinking now that they were really unlucky.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder… was someone actually trying to sabotage their hard work? Perhaps that mysterious 'ghost' on which he still didn’t have a solid lead?

That was incredibly ridiculous, he finally had decided. What would be the point, for a Decepticon, to arrange for wandering animals to ravage a field or to make sprinklers fail or hid fertilizer bags?

Just to be sure and because he wanted to be thorough -- and spend time away from Bulkhead, who was starting to really weird him out, with the way he kept looking longingly at him --, Sentinel had spend a few night cycles watching both farms, only to find nothing out of the ordinary. No mysterious silhouette, and no bot who hadn’t business on the farm itself. So… not sabotage, he decided, but really bad luck for both farmers. It could happen.

“And how is Steelflail doing? Is he… calmer, now?” Scythe asked quietly, looking at Scythe with a strange look. Everybody else paused in their conversation.

Furrow grimaced. “Well, he is in a better mood, yes… though I’d say he’s still very agitated. But then again, you know how he is.” There were nods of acknowledgement. Sentinel felt a bit puzzled, sensing there was something here he wasn’t getting, something everybody seemed to know aside of him.

At their last meeting, three solar cycles ago, the Prime remembered Furrow telling them about Glithmice which had surprisingly gotten into the cellar where they kept the freshly picked mechanicrops they had hoped to present to a friendly contest between the local farmers after the last Harvest Festival. Though the competition itself was friendly, some of the participants were very driven. The winner was, from what Sentinel had been told, supposed to represent the village in a bigger contest against all the neighboring hamlets, so winning was a matter of pride.

Despite being asked to, Bulkhead hadn’t entered his own products, gently reminding their neighbors he wanted to first get the hang back before he started to try and produce high quality mechanicrops and that so far, he didn’t think his crops were good enough for even a friendly contest. Sentinel tended to agree. Although Bulkhead tended to his plants admirably -- and he would never tell the oaf that aloud -- the fact was that they didn’t have the same glamorous and tempting appareance as the ones Baler, Steelflail, Lancer or Auger produced.

But, back to the ‘disaster’ at Serene Meadows. With their best mechanicrops having been nibbled at by the Glitchmice, Steelflail had been furious to have to present -- in his opinion -- lesser products. Though quite good in everybody’s opinion, they hadn’t won first place. Instead, Baler had come first, followed closely by Lancer, who had earned herself a special mention for the quality of her Ion-Yams.

Baler had almost burst with pride, whereas Steelflail had almost growled and turned heels before leaving, not even staying for a drink and a Aurum-Apple pie -- but not fragging, to Sentinel’s relief; everybody had been too busy putting away the tables and decorations to change it into a ‘casual’ meeting between couples.

“I, uh, hope he’ll get in a better mood soon?” Sentinel offered as he put the dress he was working on down and took a Copper-Cookie.

Furrow smiled bitterly. “Oh, I think he will. Though perhaps you’d better prepare yourself for something big, Scythe,” he said to the other Endura, who sighed.

“Aren’t I always doing that?”

Sentinel raised an optics ridge even as the other Enduras present -- Greenlight, Mistcover, Shock, Tiller, Rennet and Nightglow -- sighed as well. “They’re so childish, the two of them,” Shock commented, shaking his head.

“Naw, sparklings have better sense than that,” Greenlight said, waving her hand. “No offense to your Conjunx, of course,” she amended toward Scythe and Furrow.

“None taken,” the two assured her. Furrow grimaced. “Truly, you’re right. Our creations are much better behaved. I fear their Sire isn’t setting them with a good example.”

Sentinel coughed. “Uh, I’m sorry, but… what are you talking about? I fear I’m… sort of… lost?”

Nightglow -- who was beaming in the maternity dress he had chosen to wear now that his status was official -- smiled at him and patted his hand, half-amused and half-wincing. “Oh, we’re sorry Sentinel. We forgot for a moment you weren’t in the known, with how recently you arrived. I mean, we told Roller, of course, but I didn’t realize we hadn’t done the same thing for you…”

“And what would you like to say to me?” the Prime asked, somewhat wary.

“Well, these little incidents on Serene Meadows or Sweet Dale?” Scythe said. “Let’s just say that our Conjunx are quite competitive.” At Sentinel’s puzzled frown, he added. “It means that it’s Steelflail who purposely made a hole in the Robo-chickens’ enclosure’s fence.”

“And that it’s Baler who released Glitchmice in their cellar… though he didn’t do that himself; he asked our little Steelclaw to put them here last time he went to play at Serene Meadows with Sprinkle. Honestly dragging our sparkling in that feud of him… I can’t say how much he disappointed me,” Furrow added, looking unhappy.

Sentinel’s optics almost bulged and the mouthful of Copper-Cookie he had been trying to shallow had a hard time sliding down his intakes. “Whaaat?” he said, trying not to choke.

Furrow shrugged. “What can I say? Steelflail is like an overgrown sparkling when it comes to grudge… and Baler seems only too happy to answer in kind.”

Scythe raised an optic ridge. “I feel like I should defend my Conjunx but sadly, I fear I can’t say you’re wrong. My Baler just doesn’t know when to quit.” Both Enduras sighed and were patted in sympathy by the others.

Sentinel, still puzzled, turned toward Nightglow for answers. The other mech was always… kind with him and the Prime thought he could have considered him a friend… should he be a real energon farmer, that’s it. As usual, Nightglow handed him the information readily.

“It’s very simple, you see, dear. A few vorns ago, when Baler won the mechanicrops contest for the first time, he was, and it’s understandable, bursting with pride. The problem is that, how to say it?” he paused as he looked at Scythe, who waved at him to say it was okay. “Well, the simplest way to put it is to say that the pride got over his helm, and he had some… rather unkind comments to make over the other farmers’ own production. Some took it worse than the others, though in the end, they all forgave him. Well, all except Steelflail,” he said, a bit awkwardly.

“The thing Nightglow isn’t saying,” Rennet jumped in the conversation, “is that Steelflail was used, for stellar cycles, to be the one winner of every contests. He was really producing very good mechanicrops, among the best of all the region, and he often won the inter-villages contests since he was a young farmer still working on his Creators’ farm. Baler was just beginning to make a name for himself as a farmer, as he had only recently Bonded and settled down at Sweet Dale, whereas Steelflail was, well, already a big name. So when Baler criticized his mechanicrops, it… really got to him.”

“You mean it got him in a mood for orbital cycles,” Furrow sighed. “There wasn’t a single solar cycle when he wasn’t grumbling about Baler and his insolence. It was starting to drive me crazy! Then, a day, just like that, he stopped. In fact, he started to smirk. And later the same day, I’ve heard a few Petrorabbits had feasted on one of Baler’s Cryo-Carrots’ field,” the Endura explained.

Scythe winced. “Oh, I remember that one. It got Baler in a foul mood as well for a while! He was persuaded the Petrorabbits hadn’t come by themselves, since he had taken precautions against them. And well, he did jump to the conclusion Steelflail had had to do something with that. Mind you, he was right, but at the time, it turned out into an obsession, and in turn, to avenge himself and his precious Cryo-Carrot, he sabotaged a sprinkler system in Steelflail’s fields during a heat wave.”

“Steelflail retaliated, and then Baler did too, and they ended up taking turn at doing stupid things in an attempt to sabotage each other’s work,” Greenlight said to Sentinel. “It’s been vorns, and they’re still at it. Mind you, they calmed down since, because their Enduras were so unhappy with them that they ended up sleeping on the couch a whole night each!”

There were chuckles, and Sentinel had to hid a grimace. He would have rather liked that himself...

“Nothing like refusing your Bonded your favors to make him pause and think,” Scythe said with a smirk, and Furrow nodded eagerly. “It certainly worked on them… well, in part. They never totally stopped pulling stupid pranks on each others or trying to sabotage the other’s attempts at making prize-worthy mechanicrops, but the incidents reduced in number and regularity. They only hit it off in stride again near the time for the contest.”

“That’s… weird,” Sentinel finally said, not knowing what else to say. He felt baffled. Wow. Just how many things hadn’t he picked on or had he not been told exactly? When Bulkhead had pretended he could learn a lot of things by listening to the Enduras gossiping, he hadn’t thought the oaf could be so, so… right. Briefly, he wondered if he shouldn’t directly ask them about the ‘ghost’, or drop references to Decepticons to them and see what their reactions were. However, he decided against it… for now.

“Tell me about that,” Furrow sighed. “Sometimes, they manage to sabotage each other so well they both had to retire from the competition before it even started.”

“I wouldn’t think it’s a bad thing,” Greenlight said absentmindedly. “It certainly give my beautiful Lancer a chance to shine. Got a few wins for her, so for us, it works well.”

Scythe nodded. “It’s true she does good harvests. You can be proud of her.”

“I am,” Greenlight nodded with a smile. “And I’m also happy she isn’t so competitive. Then again, I wouldn’t have minded her to join the other aspect of the competition,” the green femme smirked and gave a wink at Scythe and Furrow.

Everybody laughed, much to Sentinel’s confusion. “Other aspect?” he tried.

Furrow wiped a few optical cleaner’s drops at the corner of his optics. “Well, you see, once they realized they had to calm themselves about the fields, they started to compete in other ways. More… subtle ones.”

Scythe laughed. “‘Subtle’? You call dolling us up to show off how ‘pretty’ and ‘perfect’ their respective Enduras was ‘subtle’?” Furrow shrugged with an easy grin as everybody laughed anew.

Everybody, except Sentinel, who remained frozen in incomprehension, though he was starting to get an idea…”Did they really…?” he started to say, trailing off, uncertain as to how he could finish the sentence.

Nightglow gently patted his arm. “Oh yes, they spend their time buying Furrow and Scythe expensive dresses, all of them most frilly or with more intricate patterns than the last, with matching petticoats and capes. They bought them ribbons for their helms, and jewellery to wear like the citybots of the higher class and the Nobles. Oh, and CaesiumSilk panties which were just marvellous to look at! So much lace and frills and small beads woven on them, so much sequins glittering in the sun when they lifted their skirts to show them off to everyone, to make sure they knew just how well dressed their Enduras were! I wouldn’t have minded getting a pair like ” Nightglow said dreamingly.

Scythe giggled a bit, cheeks red. “Oh yes, I remember that. It was so embarrassing to have Baler just show me off like that! Fun, of course, and I did like the dresses and specially crafted panties, but really, I wish he hadn’t been so intend at making everyone see just what kind of panties I wore! Of course,” he added with a small smile, “the interface that usually followed was just so divine I couldn’t stay angry at him for long. Especially not once it was certain I was carrying a new little one.”

Sentinel blinked. It almost sounded like… No, surely not! Then again… How many sparklings did Furrow and Scythe each had? Seven? No… eight; yes, that was it, eight each. The Prime almost blanched as he realized it.

“They turned knocking you up into another competition?” he gasped, feeling it was unbelievable.

But Furrow and Scythe both nodded with matching wide smiles, obviously very happy with that. “They did,” Furrow said, laughing. “At some point, their little contest turned from ‘prettiest Endura’ to ‘most fertile one’ and ‘who is the manliest’ between them. The moment Steelflail learned Baler and Scythe were expecting a second sparkling, he just swept me off my pedes, carried me to our berth, just ripped my dress off and started to make me love all night cycle. He did that every single night for three orbital cycles, to say nothing of the three to six break he took a day to spend more time with him, just so I could bear a third. Some of the best interfaces I ever had,” he sighed happily.

Sentinel watched him in incredulity. Scythe continued. “Baler was exactly the same. The moment it became clear Furrow was carrying a fourth, we just had to have a fourth ourselves! Then I went and carried a fifth, and Steelflail made sure Furrow was also going to have a fifth. The very moment it looked like or was announced one of us was Sparked, the other couple would make extra effort to produce another sparkling soon after,” he explained.

“You know, it’s been a while since they tried that. I mean, since your Peck and my Axle were born. They’re about four vorns old. How much do you bet our darling Conjunx will find themselves thinking it’s time to try for a ninth before long?” Furrow thought aloud.

“No bet, it’s a sure thing already,” Scythe chuckled, the other Enduras joining.

Sentinel felt a bit faint. He couldn’t imagine himself bearing nine Sparklings, let alone a single one. Thank Primus that he and Bulkhead weren’t really Bonded, and that the oaf didn’t have a competitive streak as big as him. Not like the Bumbler…

It just made him think even more uncomfortably about the few remaining contraceptive chips he had; only two… only two and he would be left alone and without protection on a planet populated by interface-crazy, sparkling-making mechas.

Speaking of sparklings…

There were loud, quick knocks at the door as the conversation stopped, and a young mech entered without even waiting for the Endura of the house to come and properly greet him at the door. Sentinel tried to replace him mentally. It looked like… Hmm, he thought it was Carver, one of Pollen and Huller’s creations. As he realized it, Sentinel felt a weight settling in his fuel tank.

Oh, please, let him not say that…

“Please, please, come quick! Carrier is going to have my new baby sibling today and he wants you to come!” the young mech said quickly, tugging at Tiller and Rennet’s sleeves to get them to rose, which they immediately did, just like all the other Enduras. Dresses and panties were immediately discarded -- as well as a plug or two that Sentinel winced at seeing as he undressed himself, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to just remain behind -- and neatly folded and put in subspace.

Everybody rushed outside and transformed, speeding on the road to join Fruitful Orchard as fast as possible.

Sentinel replayed the imagines of Seedleaf’s emergence in his CPU, trying to not gag as he remember the fluids… and the stretching… and the cries… and the pained howl… and how much he had wished he didn’t witness that ever again. He had even seriously PRAYED to not witness it again, to have a good excuse to not go and ‘assist’ Pollen during childbirth, least he would end up as a nervous break again.

Apparently, Primus hated him. Why else would it keep happening to him if it wasn’t the case? Seriously?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter next one, I promise. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulkhead and Sentinel get a new visit from Cybertron. As well, some people get stunning news they either would have prefered not to known or were obvious about...

“Not that I mind -- in fact, I’m very happy to see you all -- but you weren’t supposed to be back so soon! Has something happened?” Bulkhead asked worriedly as he sat in the crouch across Blurr, Optimus and Ratchet.

There was noise in the next room as the Jettwins explored the house while the other members of the team sipped on oil. Bulkhead handed Ratchet a plate of treats Sentinel had prepared sooner and checked his chronometer; the Prime wouldn’t be back just yet, as he had been taking a walk when Blurr and the rest of the team had unexpectedly showed up. He had pretended he needed a break and some fresh air after they… hum, after they just had an early interface. Sentinel had taken to consuming aphrodisiac treats first thing in the morning, and it had had some… effects that Bulkhead had gladly took care of.

Seriously, he was beginning to wonder about Sentinel’s lack of suspicion concerning his libido; either the Prime was blind, stupid, or he just didn’t really mind the interfacing for real. The first two options were certainly the most convincing, but who knew?

“Nothing bad happened, Bulkhead,” Optimus assured him quietly. “We just…ah, Blurr?”

“Jetstorm and Jetfire were growing restless in the absence of Sentinel,” the lithe mech said coldly as a crash in the background indicated that the Twins had found the cupboard there Bulkhead and Sentinel stored the pans and pots and had let some fall.

Bulkhead blinked. “And… that’s all? Excuse me, but it doesn’t seem like a real good reason. By the way, should I thank you for having them restless in my kitchen?”

Blurr massaged his temples, as if he was fighting a headache, as Optimus winced and Ratchet snorted. “When Blurr say restless, we mean they were whining for contact with Sentinel, started to get out of control by racing and flying recklessly in the hallways and actually tried to infiltrate the Intelligence Division to hack their files concerning the mission Sentinel was currently on,” the medic said with a smirk.

“... They miss Sentinel so much?” Bulkhead asked, feeling nonplussed. Usually, bots who knew Sentinel tended to not want to see him again if they could help it. Bulkhead had definitely been among the number. Now… well, it was hard for him to keep this mindset, given just how good interfacing with the Prime was. That was special, though. So having someone -- two someones, at that -- desperately seeking him out to the point of trying to hack into confidential informations… It was a shock.

Blurr sighed. “Apparently. It seems the Science Minister and the Elite Guard, by association, greatly underestimated just how… attached the Twins had become toward their former CO and part time Drill Sergeant. Their new CO was, sadly, unable to get them to obey his orders. And though they do obey Jazz, who we dispatched next to handle them, they seem to only follow some of his orders at time. The only one who truly had any authority on them… is Sentinel Prime,” he said with a grimace.

Jetfire poked his head through the door. “Is Mr Sentinel Prime back here yet?”

“Uh, no, no. He’ll be there soon, though,” Bulkhead assured him. Jetfire nodded and went back to the kitchen. From the noise, Jetstorm was busy using a pot as a drum. “Is that normal that they do… that?” he asked with a frown. It was the first time he saw the flying Autobots act so… childish. They were normally far more focused and mature. What had happened since he last saw them to have them behave like that?

Ratchet glared at Blurr, who refused to look at the medic or even at anyone, and Optimus shuffled nervously. “Actually… it might be,” the Prime said softly.

Bukhead blinked, unsure. Ratchet was looking at Blurr with an hard glint. “Care to explain to him, or should I? No, let me have the honors, since it seems the Elite Guard wasn’t exactly truthful about quite a few matters. Like the fact the Twins are actually younger than they appear!”

Blurr raised his arms. “I swear I didn’t know until the Science Minister told me! And themselves didn’t know until they had started the procedure on them! Besides, they would have died if they hadn’t been upgraded!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that once it was known from the higher ups, the kids should never had been deployed on a battlefield, which you basically did when you send them to Earth!” Ratchet snarled.

Bulkhead’s jaw dropped. Well, frag… “How young are we talking about here? And how come nobody noticed before?” He needed a drink, badly. Reaching for a cube of liquid energon -- Optimus had bought some, thinking it would please them; Bulkhead didn’t care too much, but the gesture would definitely sooth Sentinel -- he gulped some down.

Blurr sighed. “From what we gathered, they’re about two hundred stellar cycles.” Bulkhead choked; that was awfully young! They were barely in their youngling years! “As to why it wasn’t noticed until too late… I’m afraid it has a lot to do with their ahead-of-schedule upgrade into adult civilian frames,” he explained. “Technically, Youth Sectors dealing with orphaned sparklings and younglings are supposed to take care of them until they reach the appropriate age to be put in adult frames, after which the Civilian Guilds are supposed to provide them with an apprenticeship and a job. It’s rather rare it comes to it in Iacon, as the demand for sparklings to adopt is high. But in poorer parts of Cybertron…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Well, it seems that the Sector in which the Twins ended was in the habit of upgrading their pensioners early on if they thought or were convinced they couldn’t be adopted, or lacked space and/or time to properly raise them. Upgrades were swiftly done, and once in adult bodies, they weren’t their responsibility anymore, but the one of the Civilian Guilds. In turn, the Guilds didn’t always check if the mechs they were sent really had the right age before being put to work. Nobody checked Jetstorm and Jetfire’s background before assigning them a job… which turned out to be in a Iacon refinery,” Blurr finished grimly.

Bulkhead paled. Adult frames or not, the Twins’ Sparks and processors remained immatures. They just couldn’t be trusted to deal with delicate, dangerous matters and materials. To put two immatures mechling into such a dangerous situation… it was the perfect recipe for disaster. Bulkhead finished his cube in one gulp, trying to get his nerves back. “Well, frag…” he muttered.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Ratchet grumbled. “Their immature processors and Sparks might be the reason they’re so… attached to Sentinel as of now. It’s highly probable they imprinted on him as a surrogate Creator.”

Bulkhead blinked. “Seriously? I thought only newsparks or really small sparklings did that? The imprinting, I mean?”

Optimus winced. “We managed to recover their records from the Youth Sector they grew up in. Apparently, they were orphaned very early, before they were even a full stellar cycle old. It’s theorized their coding went dormant in the absence of a strong presence, and as they were never raised long by the same mech, it mustn’t have reactivated… until they spend so much time training under Sentinel and Jazz that they just started identifying as parental substitutes. At least, it’s the theory Red Alert, the medic in charge of them, presented us with.”

“Shouldn’t they be fine with just Jazz, then?” Bulkhead asked, frowning. “You said they imprinted on both, no?”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Jazz seems to be, for them, the… how did young Sari put it? ‘Cool older brother’? Whereas Sentinel, who was ‘in charge’ and a Prime, thus the superior officer and the one they had to report to in priority, seems to be the parent,” Blurr explained, voice strained.

“Oh…” Bulkhead said in a small voice. “Well, uh… seeing Sentinel will be good for them?”

“In theory, it will calm them down for a good while. Thus why we had to organize a surprise visit. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you a message on time, it was decided at the last moment to avoid risk of leaks,” the Intelligence Agent excused himself.

“It’s alright,” Bulkhead told him. “I’m always glad to see you all. So, how are things going for you on Cybertron? And why did my little buddy not come this time?”

“Bumblebee? He’s on Cybertron with Sari right now,” Ratchet said with a snort. “Kids both needed lessons, and Arcee was delighted to retake her job as teacher, if only for the two of them. Can”t say she’s really happy with the way things are going on Cybertron; the planet changed a lot since the war, and it’s a big shock for her. She still feel displaced and uneasy about lof of things. I hope Omega will be able to help her feel better,” he explained.

As Ratchet spoke of Arcee with such warmth, Bulkhead noticed Optimus had lowered his head with a sad look on his face, something Ratchet was oblivious to. The giant green mech had to refrain from sighing. Really, the medic was blind, and Optimus wasn’t one to speak if he thought he had no chance to make himself heard. The look Blurr gave him showed he knew what was going on.

The crush his Boss-Bot had on the medic was obvious… except for the medic himself.

“That’s… good to hear, I suppose,” Bulkhead said politely. “And Prowl?”

Optimus did smile at that and shared an obviously happy look with Ratchet. Bulkhead’s spark lighted up in hope. “He’s doing better. Not much, but there have been indeniable progresses,” Optimus said proudly. Then his smile dropped. “However, no one can say just how long it’ll take him to recover. And he’d need a quiet place to do so; Cybertron isn’t, and he can’t stay locked up in the Cyber-Dojo eternally; he would grown insane.”

Bulkhead hummed thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps some time to Earth would be best, no?”

“We thought about it, but the Council is starting to become rather… open to the idea of trade or at least researches about Earth. It’s going to become very frequented soon, and well, as much as I like the planet, I’d rather not compromise Prowl’s recovery with unexpected danger, like the Dinobots,” Optimus explained.

“They’d hardly be a danger to Prowl,” Bulkhead pointed out, frowning. “They like him.”

“It may be so, but they’re also rather violent and imprevisible, as well as easily manipulated. They can cause damages without even trying, and it’s not something I want to risk,” Ratchet grunted. “Spend too much time trying to get him back into working order without having to deal with overgrown metal lizards whose hugs would crush him.”

“Let’s not talk about it for now,” Blurr cut him out. “What can you say to us about the progresses of your mission, Bulkhead?”

“Ah, uh… shouldn’t we wait for Sentinel before starting a debriefing?”

“We can make a second one later. However, if you want to wait for him...” Blurr said, shrugging.

Bulkhead nodded. “Y… Yes, I would prefer. It would be rude to start talking without him here. Besides, he’s the one in charge, no?” Even if it was technical, very technical even; still, Sentinel remained an Officer and as such, he was ranked well over Bulkhead. And besides… he didn’t want to see his Endura miffed, not when the solar cycle had started so well. Eck, Sentinel had even looked pretty relaxed after interfacing, and it was rare enough to have struck him.

“Is he treating you well?” Ratchet asked with a raised optic ridge.

Bulkhead gave him a look. “Given the circumstances, I’d rather say I’m the one who is treating him well,” he said, slightly irritated.

Ratchet started to smile slowly. “You frag him well, then?” he said with an amused glint in his optics.

Optimus’ optics bulged and Blurr didn’t even look phased about the comment, and Bulkhead had to grin. “Oh yes, I do,” he said goofily.

“Is he any good?” the medic continued. Optimus gulped and weakly said Ratchet’s name in a pleading tone.

Bulkhead smiled in earnest. Bantering with Ratchet was fun, he decided. They would never had done that even a stellar cycle ago, but here and now, with Ratchet obviously seeing him as a grown up mech and a fellow soldier instead of a silly youngling? Because yeah, given the question, it was how Ratchet was trying to see him; Bulkhead remembered his Sire had had talk like that with his ‘war buddies’, back in the day. Time to be a bit crude. “Very much so. Best I ever had, if I’m being honest,” he added after a few seconds of thought.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. “Is that so? Either your interface life really sucked until now, or he’s a better lay than he looks. Does that big mouth of him any good?”

Bulkhead had to chuckle. Behind his panel, his spike gave a twitch. “He can do things with it you wouldn’t suspect,” he boasted, to Optimus growing embarrassment and Blurr greater stoicism. Ratchet just leered a bit.

“May I know of who, or rather of what, you’re talking?” a scathing voice asked from the doorway. Everybody turned his head toward the door, meeting Sentinel’s unamused glare.

Bulkhead’s smile took a strained edge. “Oh, Sentinel, finally back?” he asked sweetly. “Look who came to see us.”

“I can see it by myself, thank you,” the Prime groused as he walked in. The noise in the kitchen had stopped, Bulkhead noted distractedly. “What in the Pit are you doing here?” he asked Blurr as he gave the other mechs present a dismissive glance. A glint of hopefulness entered his optics. “Do you have a lead? A suspect? Breaking news? Is the mission going to be over soon?”

Bulkhead sagged. Blurr shook his head. “No, no. I’m afraid there’s nothing new on our end. We came for another matter entirely.”

Sentinel frowned. “Wh…?”

“MR SENTINEL PRIME SIR!” twin voices shouted as what could only be described as two blurs, one blue and one orange, tackled the Prime to the floor, making him yelp as he fell down only to find himself with an armful of flying Autobots who were busying themselves hugging and cuddling him.

“Jetstorm! Jetfire! Get off, soldiers!” he gasped out, but the Twins were too busy cuddling him they didn’t register the order, or if they did, they didn’t care.

“We be missing you much, Mr Sentinel Prime Sir!” Jetfire babbled happily. “Missing you so so so so much! You have be missing us too?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve missed you too,” Sentinel grumbled as he tried to at least sit down. “Now, please get off!” The Twins only hugged him harder, obviously unwilling to be parted from him for anything. Sentinel sighed. “Still as unruly as usual. I trust you were a handful for your minders?”

“We be good in time you away,” Jetstorm quickly said, Jetfire nodding quickly in agreement. Blurr and Ratchet snorted. “Mr Jazz Sir taught us how pounce! Did we do good?” he asked, optics full of hope.

“He did, didn’t he?” Sentinel mumbled, swearing the Cyberninja had only to so to annoy him. The Prime knew full well the Jettwins had some sort of hero worship when it came to him -- and he admitted he found it very nice. But the downside was that they tended to want and be physical, when they weren’t trying to impress him with whatever move they came up with. Pouncing let them do both. Pure Jazz-style to annoy him, Sentinel swore it. “Yes, you did good,” he reluctantly said, patting Jetstorm’s helm while Jetfire buried his face against his chest… or rather, in the dress’ fabric.

It puzzled the young mech, for he frowned and looked at Prime with curiosity. “What you be wearing, Mr Sentinel Prime Sir?” he asked.

Sentinel’s cheeks reddened. “That’s a dress, Jetfire. Now…”

“Why you be wearing it, Mr Sentinel Prime Sir?” Jetstorm asked. He was holding the edge of the skirt between his hands and lifted it high to get a better look at the fabric; it ended up revealing Sentinel’s panties to the whole room. Optimus’ optics widened and his jaw dropped in shock while the medic burst out in a short laugh. Blurr barely seemed concerned and Bulkhead looked with interest at what Sentinel had chosen to wear today. Jetstorm slide his head under the skirt to look more closely at the panties, obviously puzzled. “What that is, Mr Sentinel Prime Sir? Why your panel is funny? You be having new one?”

Bulkhead felt both like laughing and crying at once. Oh Primus, of all the things the Twins could do… Glancing at the other Autobots, he wasn’t surprised to see Optimus was the only one in real shock; he hadn’t know about the lack of, uh, valve cover, and though he hadn’t been able to get a real glimpse, he must have had a pretty good idea of what they were hiding. Ratchet was smirking smugly, and Blurr looked very calm; these two had known long beforehand. Bulkhead wondered where Ratchet had got the info; it wasn’t exactly that well known outside of energon farms...

Sentinel quickly snatched the fabric off Jetstorm’s hands and yanked it down, his cheeks completely red and heated with humiliation. He pushed Jetstorm away and tried to dislogde Jetfire from the arm the orange Twins was holding on for dear life. “Give me that back! And don’t dare to do it again! It’s… it’s private!” he stammered. “Good mechs don’t go looking under dresses and don’t try to look at panties!”

“Is panties what you be wearing? What is purpose?” Jetfire asked, confused, while his twin kept his head down, chagrined to be scolded at.

Sentinel bit his lips. Bulkhead coughed to get the two young mechs’ attention. “Now, younglings, it’s something for grown up, and you shouldn’t ask until you’re older,” he gently chided them. Sentinel raised an optic ridge at the use of ‘younglings’ to describe the Twins but held his glossa. “Why don’t you come sit with us and take a Copper-Cookie? Sentinel made them himself, I’m sure he’d like to know what you think of them.”

“What is Copper-Cookie, Mr Bulkhead?” Jetstorm asked as Bulkhead showed them the plate of treats. “Is it like oil cake? Mr Jazz Sir made taste us; we find it yummy!”

Sentinel mumbled something about Jazz spoiling them too much, but Bulkhead beamed. “Yes, younglings, it’s a treat like oil caked. Care to have a taste?”

Both Twins nodded and tangled themselves off of Sentinel and rushed to the table to take the Copper-Cookies, in which they bit with delight and appreciative noises. Profiting from the diversion, Sentinel came back to his feet with more grumbling. He smoothed his dress and his apron with dark looks at the Twins. Because of them, he had flashed everyone and revealed to fragging Optimus that his humiliation went even further than the dress.

On the other end, he was almost glad to see the old rust bucket; the medic could be helpful. Sentinel still needed to be checked over about that pesky virus that was just making him so… clingy. Of course, he needed to be polite and respectful if he wanted him to comply, since he didn’t trust the old mech to not just push him off if he wasn’t. Mech was a real pain in the aft to deal with, in his opinion, and he would have largely prefered Red Alert, but since there wasn’t anyone else and he wanted that… clingy feeling to be over…

“Medic Ratchet?” he asked politely to gather the attention of the white and red mech, who looked at him with a raised optic ridge. “May I get some of your time? I fear my health isn’t… the best, these solar cycles. Could you, please, examine me?”

“And what are the symptoms I should look for?” the medic asked directly, not bothering to move from the couch. Sentinel gritted his teeth; a real, professional medic from the Guard would have agreed right away and took him aside to speak quietly, not be so open and not caring about who might overhear. He didn’t want anyone else to know!

“It is… private,” he muttered. “Could we talk about it in the other room?”

Ratchet eyed him for a moment, silent. Well, obviously silent, but in truth, he was communicating with Bulkhead over a private comm. link channel.

:: _Got any idea of what could be wrong with him? Aside of, you know, being himself?_ :: he groused over the comm link. :: _Nauseas? Spark swelling and fluttering? Balance off? Because if so, I can tell him right away he is Sparked and be done with it._ ::

Bulkhead tried to stay impassible and drunk some oil to hide his trouble. :: _No, he never said anything about it. Besides, he’s on contraceptives… though he doesn’t have many left by now._ :: And the team hadn't been able to bring new batch, again. Bulkhead paused for a moment, trying to remember a moment where Sentinel had said he may be sick, before it struck him. :: _Ah, uh… He might be referring to… uh… you know, to… to interfacing with me._ ::

:: _And that would prove he’s sick? If anything, I’d rather say you’re the one who need to be examined for willingly fragging him!_ ::

:: _Don’t be so sarcastic! Anyway, uh… I… well, our neighbors… Energon farmers… they made Sentinel special treats… to get him in a better mood?_ :: he tried desperately.

:: _... you drugged him with chemicals to have him interface with you?_ :: Ratchet was shocked, though he didn’t show it outwardly. :: _I never thought you were the type…Please, tell me it’s not the treats you’ve served us._ ::

:: _Don’t be ridiculous! The special ones are in a locked cupboard, Sentinel keeps them to himself; he likes them and wouldn’t share them with anyone anyway. And I haven’t chosen whatever is happening! Our neighbors noticed Sentinel wasn’t… well, they thought something needed to be done for some reason, and they handed him treats ever since. He never noticed; he complained it must have been a virus, and I think that’s why he want you to examine him,_ :: he explained.

:: _I’m surprised you never told him; it isn’t like you,_ :: Ratchet noted.

:: _I tried. Subtlety, so he wouldn’t blame me -- and he would, even if I’m not the one who drugged him in the first place -- but he didn’t get it. I tried to tell him more frankly, and he didn’t listen. He dismissed me and was just so unpleasant at the time, I just… I abandoned the idea to tell him anything unless he asks first,_ :: Bulkhead explained half-heartedly. :: _It’s just easier. And beside… interfacing with him is pleasant. He’s incredibly mellow while we’re doing it, and…_ ::

:: _No details, please,_ :: Ratchet cut him. :: _I don’t think I could support it. I'll do a token protest and say that what you're doing is very dubious at best, but I think you already know that, don't you? And that you won't act differently? So... Want me to dismiss him?_ ::

:: _... No. No, examine him anyway. Just… don’t tell him for the aphrodisiacs. Even if you don’t find anything and invent something to sooth him, I think it would please him, and if it can better his mood, I’m all for it._ ::

:: _... You care for him a lot, it seems._ ::

:: _Try to share a berth with someone almost daily for five to six orbital cycles, and you’ll see if you don’t grow up attached to him,_ :: Bulkhead reported. :: _Besides, we’re supposed to be Conjunx and Endura, I have a duty to him._ ::

:: _As you wish,_ :: Ratchet indicated. Truthfully, had he been a better mech, he might not have listened to Bulkhead quiet plea. But Sentinel was not a Saint, Ratchet held little love for him, and he cared a lot for Bulkhead himself. Beside, next to some of the things he had done and seen in his long life, a small lie to a Prime wouldn’t register much on his conscience.

Out loud, he spoke. “Very well. Show me a room and I’ll examine you, if your Conjunx allows it.”

Sentinel thumped his foot on the floor. “Oh please, we’re between us. That Conjunx and Endura thing is an act! No need to act as if it was for real! It’s not like we’re officially Bonded or anything!”

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. “But you are.”

The world seemed to slow and still completely. Optimus’ jaw dropped -- again. Blurr winced. Bulkhead blinked. The Twins, too busy enjoying the Copper-Cookies, a Argo-Pears pie and a plate of Cobalt-Cupcakes, barely listened. Sentinel’s optics widened and he grit his teeth.

“Ah, ah. Very funny, Doctor. Very funny… not!” he barked.

“You think I’m joking?” the medic said. “I can assure you, I’m not. The local chapter of the Church of Primus on Cybertron turned your Bonding licence over the Civilian Guilds’ office… or at least, the Administrative Division of the Guilds, since they’re the ones who care for the Hall of Records. Your personal files have been corrected and amended. You’re now both recorded as Bonded to each other,” he explained with a small smirk at seeing Sentinel’s gobsmacked expression. Bulkhead was still blinking, obviously having trouble to assimilate the information. Apparently, it was new to him too.

“... you’re lying. It’s a joke… Can’t be anything but a joke,” Sentinel said, face blank.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Ratched said back. “As far as your records show, you’re now officially Bulkhead’s Bonded, by Cybertronian law. By the way, you might want to ask for a raise and some work arrangements; Bonded couples are entitled that,” he mentioned almost casually. He was so having fun shocking the Prime; he was taking pictures as he spoke.

“No way it can be legal! We can’t be Bonded under Cybertron’s laws! We Bonded for show, on a mission, on a backwater planet according to a minor religious group’s rituals!” Sentinel ranted.

“The Church of Prime is hardly ‘minor’,” Blurr mentioned. “Although most Cybertronian rather follow the ‘Allspark Movement’ of thinking or the ‘Almighty Primus’ Congregation’, the Church of Primus still has lot of adepts on Cybertron, even if they’re mostly centered around the spaceports dealing with Moonbase I and II -- which, by the way, are two of the biggest concentrations of followers in the Commonwealth, and very close to Cybertron itself, unlike Agri III. The High Council recognized them as an official religion and has recognized their rites and Bonding ceremonies as official and lawful under Autobot’s laws for about 5000 vorns now.”

“... You knew. You knew that by sending us here and making us Bond for the sake of appearance, we would end up legally Bonded!” Sentinel accused the lithe blue mech, ready to pounce at him and strangle him.

Blurr gave him a look. “It is hardly of consequence. Agents have been doing worse for the sake of some mission. A Bonding licence is not the baddest thing you could be saddled with.”

“Well, I won’t be saddled with it for long,” Sentinel snarled. “I want a -- what are these organics on Earth called it, again? Ah yes -- I want a divorce!”

Ratchet blinked. “Divorcing? From a mech you’re supposed to be sparkbonded to? Good luck trying to make it pass by the Judges. They’re going to have a good laugh.”

“But we’re not sparkbonded!” Sentinel claimed loudly.

“You shared sparks for the ceremony, no? So you started a SparkBond, even if you didn’t continue to make it stronger. As such, you’re Bonded, and a Bond can’t be dissolved. Unless the Church orders it, and they haven’t do so in about… oh, perhaps even before the Great War, and again, it was because there were undeniable proofs the Conjunx was a murderous, abusive sadist. He didn’t survive long after the Bond was broken, by the way,” he mentioned. He let it open of what he had died of.

“There must be a way to broke that marriage off,” Sentinel insisted, agitated. It couldn’t be happening to him. It was a bad dream. A nightmare. It wasn’t real.

Ratchet shrugged. “Well, aside of you dying… or Bulkhead kicking the bucket, then no. Officially and legally, you’re Bonded. Congratulations,” he added with a chuckle.

Sentinel turned to look at Bulkhead with narrowed optics, which made the large green mech gulp and fidget nervously. Optimus, who was slowly recovering from his shock, looked at his former friend warningly, and so did Blurr.

“Sentinel Prime,” the Intelligence Agent warned him. “It would be very… bad for you should anything ever happen to Bulkhead. Not only would the present persons here act as witnesses for your obvious agitation at the news, but Autotroopers always look at the spouse first as a suspect when a murder is committed in their jurisdiction. I’m sure anything to do with untimely death would do a lot of damage to your career,” he said, deadly quiet.

Sentinel’s fists tightened. “And a Bond wouldn’t be prejudicial to my career, perhaps? No career officers are Bonded!” Which was true; Ultra Magnus was not Bonded, Jazz was not, Kup Minor wasn’t, Rodimus Prime wasn’t,... And almost no Council members were. The higher in the hierarchy, the least time you had to think about a Bond or an eventual family unit.

“You might consider it as a challenge,” Blurr calmly answered, “and be the first one to.”

Sentinel grunted, not convinced. A challenge… yeah, right. Blurr wasn’t finished. “Besides, you might find unexpected advantages at seeing your Bond to Bulkhead revealed.” Sentinel opened his mouth to say he has no intention of ever making it known he was officially Bonded to the oaf, but Blurr didn’t let him the time to. “Think about it. Bulkhead was part of the team who took Megatron down, saved Cybertron and a whole organic planet in the bargain. Now, his name and the names of his team mates aside of Optimus may not have been revealed to the public yet, but someday they will. A leak, an official statement,... it doesn’t matter, for it is bound to be known by the population. Now, picture it: Bulkhead, the hero of Cybertron, walking down the street with his Bonded, Sentinel Prime, Elite Guard subcommander. The dashing couple who worked so hard to make Cybertron peaceful and well-protected once again,” Blurr said.

Optimus and Ratchet both mouthed ‘dashing’ in a very weird way and Bulkhead flushed uneasily. He wasn’t sure he wanted people to see him as a hero. He just… well, he wouldn’t mind people to see him as something more than a clumsy, awkward mech, but a hero? He didn’t think he wanted the title. Being recognized as an hero had done nothing good for Optimus so far, he thought as he eyed his Boss.

On the plus side, Sentinel had paused and seemed to be thinking about it, which was… good. Sentinel was a political animal, so to speak. If there was any chance a Bond to Bulkhead could be used to better his image… well, there was a good chance that Bulkhead wouldn’t have to dodge assassination attempts if Sentinel could be convinced there was a good, bright side to the unexpected news they were really Bonded.

The more Bulkhead thought about it, the more it made his Spark swell in… well, in joy, really. He hadn’t known that -- that a Bonding on Agri III would be recognized on Cybertron. So Sentinel was really his Endura. They were really Bonded for real. Which meant he was really Sentinel’s Conjunx. It meant… it could mean a lot of things that made the Space Bridge technician turned farmer’s mind spin. Wow. He should call his Creators. When everything was over, of course. Tell them he had Bonded. They wouldn’t forgive him if they heard it from anyone else. Wow. He looked at Sentinel again, finding the mech even lovelier in the bright red dress he had chosen today than he had before. His Endura, his!

“... I… will have to think about it,” Sentinel finally allowed, grumbling.

“Is Mr Sentinel Prime Mr Bulkhead’s wife now?” asked Jetfire in a small voice. Everybody blinked as they remembered suddenly the Jettwins were in the room. They had properly cleaned the plate of Copper-Cookies and made half of the rest of the treats disappear while the other Autobots were speaking, and had paid some attention to the talk. Now, they hadn’t understood everything, but it struck them that Mr Sentinel Prime might be Bonded now. They knew what Bonded was! And they were worried; would Mr Sentinel not take care of them anymore if he was Bonded to another mech?

Sentinel’s optics narrowed. “I’m not…” he started before Bulkhead cut him off. “Sentinel isn’t a ‘wife’, youngling, he is an Endura,” he said gently to the two younglings in young adult frames. “Me, I am the Conjunx.”

“What that mean?” Jetstorm asked, curious.

Bulkhead tried to give them a simple answer. “Hum, basically… well, it means that if someday we have sparklings -- because Bonded pairs often have sparklings,” he added quickly at seeing Sentinel’s look, “I’m going to be the Sire and Sentinel the Carrier.” Ratchet threw his head back with a silent laughter and Optimus grabbed the nearest energon cube to drink. He needed it.

The twins frowned. “Carrier… that mean they be little Bitlet in Mr Sentinel Prime’s belly?”

Sentinel growled, but nobody paid him any mind as Bulkhead carefully nodded. “That’s right.”

The twins exchanged a look and looked a bit hopeful. “Would mean it them Bitlet would be siblings to us?” Jetstorm asked, his brother clinging to his hand in support.

Sentinel blinked. “What do you mean, ‘sibli...’?” Bulkhead nodded readily. “Yes they would,” he said seriously, just as Blurr commed Sentinel privately to inform him of their earlier deductions. At the sudden optics widening and jaw dropping of the Prime, it was clear he had received quite a nasty shock -- though not one worse than learning he was officially Bonded.

The Twins actually jumped and danced in joy before going to hug Sentinel, chatting and babbling excitedly about little brothers and Sentinel, who looked pretty much weirded out and looked at them as if he had never seen them before.

Ratchet coughed. “Yeah, yeah, I understand you’re excited, but how about you let go of Sentinel, so I can examine him?”

“To see if he having Bitlets yet?” Jetfire asked, hopeful. Sentinel stiffened. Blurr actually chortled at that, amused, while Optimus downed the rest of his cube in one go and looked for another. If he wasn’t overcharged yet, then he didn’t think he could continue dealing with this conversation while still being sober. Bulkhead just had to smile at the hopefulness and big optics of the two younglings.

Ratchet coughed. “Perhaps, perhaps. I just need to see if he’s healthy. Now, will you let him go?” he asked, and the Twins did so, even if a bit reluctantly. “Well, come around Sentinel,” he gestured at the Prime to follow him.

“Yeah… right,” Sentinel said, shaking his head.

As soon as they were gone, Optimus rose and walked toward the door. “Excuse me, but I think I need some air.” He walked straight out without letting anyone say anything.

Bulkhead gave Blurr a worried look. “What is going on with him?”

The Intelligence Agent’s lips pursed. “It is not for me to tell. But if I were you, I’ll go and join him. Perhaps he will talk to you about what is bothering him? Don’t worry, I’ll stay here with the Twins; I need to speak to them anyway” he added as he saw that Bulkhead was reluctant to leave the three of them alone.

Bulkhead bite his lip but finally nodded and took off after Optimus. As he reached the door to the veranda, he heard Blurr beckon to the two flying younglings.

“Now, young ones, I know Sentinel has the rank of Prime, but you shouldn’t call him that anymore, especially here. It could be dangerous and compromise his cover…”

******************************

Bulkhead found Optimus sitting on the steps of the veranda, his head in his hands. Awkwardly, the large green mech sat down next to him, wondering if he should say something or pat Optimus’ shoulder in comfort. He didn’t think the pat would be really welcome, though, so he ended up coughing to clear his vocalizer.

“Do you, uh, do you want to talk about it?” he asked warily to the Prime, who was still holding his head in his hands and looking at nothing in particular. “I… is there anything I could do for you? To help?”

Optimus sighed. “It’s nice of you to offer, Bulkhead, but I fear there is little you can do… asides of perhaps, make sure Sentinel doesn’t show his undergarments to everyone?” he asked, his voice a mix of amusement and wariness.

Bulkhead flushed. “Uh, yes. Sorry about that. I never thought the Twins would do something like that. I mean, lifting his dress like that and…” he babbled.

Optimus stopped him with a gesture. “It’s okay. Nobody would have thought they would…” he sighed. “That said, I wasn’t prepared for the sight. I mean, I had accepted the dress, but the… the panties,” he flushed, “that was… really unexpected. Especially once I realized it covered…that it was the only thing which… ” He blushed again and stopped talking.

Bulkhead passed a hand behind his head in embarrassment. “Ah, uh, yes, I suppose it can be very surprising to outsiders.”

There was a silence before Optimus started to talk again. “These… these panties… are all the mechs who wore dresses…?”

Bulkhead nodded. “Yes, all the Enduras wore panties instead of proper valve cover.” Optimus took a deep breath through his vents. Bulkhead cautiously continued, knowing it would be better to have the explanation be done and over with. “Energon farmers like to interface,” he said bluntly, “but they’re almost always busy, and it’s always much easier not to have to deal with panels when one want a quick frag during a break between two jobs.”

Optimus let it sink in. After a while, he shuffled. “I don’t think I’ve really come to term with the fact you interfaced… that you probably still interface with Sentinel,” he finally said. “I mean, he never was the type of mech who… It was always obvious he prefered doing the spiking to being spiked.”

Bulkhead glanced at him. “Did you and him…?”

“No! No, no, never,” Optimus assured him. “We were friends, nothing more. He was… he was involved with Elita,” he sighed. “I got the feeling she wouldn’t have minded getting me involved too, but I…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

The Space Bridge technician rumbled. “Elita… Was it that serious, between them?”

Optimus shuttered his optics. “It’s hard to say. I think Sentinel wanted it to be serious. Elita was pretty, and well-connected. She came from a very minor Noble line, and had Creators close to the political circles in Protihex. She was smart, and rich, though she never openly said it. Her attitude and mannerisms spoke for her at time,” he said.

“So… he loved her because she had power and riches?” It sounded a bit like Sentinel… but then, remembering what the Boss-bot had told them from his Autoboot Camp and Academy’s debuts, Sentinel had been a lot less interested by these things back then. He was more of a rule-breaker, not such a stick-in-the-mud with zero tolerance for people who didn’t follow the rules to the letter.

Optimus shook his head. “Oh no, they weren’t together because of that. Sure, it must have sweetened the deal even more, but he was first and foremost attracted to Elita because… well, because she was Elita. The prettiest Femme in the Academy, in the top 10% of all her classes, and everyone thought she could make a brilliant career as a Scientist once she had finished her formative years of mission and training. Almost everybody at the Academy had a crush on her, and Sentinel was very proud to be both her friend and her sweetspark… even if Elita never kept one for long. She quickly grew bored of most bots, and she just… went from one to the other. It wasn’t exactly… nice or acceptable of a future Elite Guard member, but nobody seemed to hold it against her. Sentinel was the first ‘steady’ one she kept, so he was really boasting about it. Me, I was one of the fews who were obviously not interested in her, but she liked me, and it showed. I was never a rival for her affection; I was just her friend with whom she did her assignments. A good, bright Cadet too, with potential, and who caught the optic of the Magnus. We were young, innocent, and not thinking clearly about what we were doing,” he sighed.

“You were pretty close, the three of you,” Bulkhead commented. He had heard part of the story before, but Optimus had never revealed some things. That Sentinel and Elita had been involved in a romantic way, he had guessed by himself. Anyone really listening and knowing about the Archa Seven mess could guess without problem. But a detail like the fact Elita was the darling of everybody in their classes and apparently quite the player? That was new.

Optimus smiled bitterly. “I thought we were. You wouldn’t know, but Sentinel used to daydream about what we would become once we finished training at the Academy. He was already boasting he would become the next Magnus; I would become his Second, and Elita could be his mate and Head of Research,” he said with a half-smile.

“So many projects… We never thought it would end like that, but in the end… She was lost, and Sentinel could never forgive me for not saving her. But what could have I done? Nobody could guess her power would fail at this moment, and the explosion… I just couldn’t let Sentinel risk his life like that, not when I was so sure she was already dead. I couldn’t… couldn’t lose another friend, not like that, not so soon. I made a mistake in not trying to get her shell back. If we had know what had truly happened, right after… if we had found her, even in her mutated form… I’m not sure if it would have changed much, but perhaps Sentinel wouldn’t have started to blame me for her loss. Perhaps we could have saved something of our relationship. But I didn’t, and in the end… I’ve lost him just as surely as I’ve lost Elita,” he sighed. “Thinking back, I was probably lucky Ultra Magnus decided to reassign me to a Maintenance Crew so quickly. Given how many mechs were struck by her sudden ‘death’, the end of my stay would have been painful.”

Bulkhead frowned. “What make you say that?”

“I came across a few of them, when I was asked to come at Fortress Maximus for debriefing and… other stuffs,” he alluded. “They weren’t exactly happy to see me. Then one of them bought up Elita’s ‘death’ and then, things turned even colder and nastier. Sentinel might be the ringleader and the one mech who publically saddle me with the guilt, but it’s clear the others think like him.” He looked rather dismayed as he said that.

“Shouldn’t you tell them? That she’s alive?”

Optimus shook his head. “I don’t think it would do any good. Blackarachnia is a Decepticon, and she’s… her ethics are nothing like Elita’s were… or at least, what we thought they were at the time. Her mutation would scare most bots, and learning of what she did in order to become fully robotic again… If they don’t blame me for that as well, I will be lucky,” he said bitterly. “At least on that, Sentinel doesn’t blame me. He just prefer to pretend she did deactivate on Archa Seven, and that Blackarachnia is just a freak we need to put down before she does more twisted experiments like what happened to Wasp.”

“It hurts you, what they’ve both become,” Bulkhead stated the oblivious, trying to refrain to put an arm around the Prime’s shoulders.

Optimus laughed bitterly. “Of course it does. They were my friends. I thought we always would be. Now…” he sagged. “I hope… I wish it never comes to that between us. The members of our team, I mean.”

Bulkhead’s optics lighted brightly. “It will not,” he said with force. “We won’t let it happen to us. Besides, I think we’re of a better sort than Elita or Sentinel ever were at your age,” he added, trying to be playful. It just made Optimus smile weakly. Bulkhead became more serious at once. “Finding out your former classmate still held a grudge isn’t the only thing that is bothering you, isn’t it?” Optimus’ lips pursed. “Don’t you want to talk about it? I’m not Prowl, but I can guess, and I know how to listen,” he tried to cajole the Prime.

“I… It’s nothing, Bulkhead,” the Prime tried, only for Bulkhead to snort.

“It’s not nothing, or you wouldn’t be so gloomy and tired-looking. And yes, you do look tired, Boss-bot. I had already noticed it at your last visit. And even before I left Cybertron with Sentinel to come here, you were already acting weird and sad,” the green mech said seriously. Optimus bit his lips and shuffled. Bulkhead’s optics became kinder. “Please, Optimus, I only want to help. I know I can’t do much, but if you don’t talk about it, it’s only going to choke you. Is that because of the Council’s latest plot? Or is it because of the Noble faction acting up?”

Optimus startled. “How did you…? Nobody is supposed to know!”

Bulkhead shrugged. “I know nothing. Truly, I don’t know what it is about,” he said as he saw the look in Optimus’ optics, clearly meaning he didn’t quite believe him. “But the higher you are in the hierarchy, the more chances you have to encounter schemers… or be caught in a scheme, as a willing or unwilling pawn in a power play. I read a couple of research datafiles written by counselor Rung,” he explained at Optimus’ open disbelief. “Sari pointed out at some point that I should try and read some psychological stuff to include in my art. I didn’t understand much of what I read for the most part, because it was really heavy reading and not reader-friendly for people who knew nothing about the fields, but Rung wrote simpler files which I totally dug, to quote Jazz. He had several things like that pointed out in his researches, with keys examples known in History. That was pretty neat. That’s why I’m kinda worried about you, Boss-bot. And that why I think you’re caught up in unpleasant things. So, care to share?” he asked, and from the tone of his voice, it was clear he wouldn’t take ‘no’ as an answer.

Optimus looked at him for a long while before taking a deep breath through his vents. “It started not even two decacycles after our return to Cybertron.” Bulkhead nodded encouragingly as Optimus searched his words. “It was… the public adoration was just settling in, when I started to receive invitations to… well, all sort of celebrations held by Nobles and Councilmembers and other high standing bots -- and less high standing too; I mean, I got invited to the inauguration of a new Energon Cafe by the owner, a middle-class mech! And curiously, it probably was the less awkward one, since I could at least relate to the mech. Oh, he wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t been a hero, but he was surprisingly nice, all things given…” he shook his head.

“I wasn’t sure what to do at first. I mean, it was very overwhelming. I had somewhat dreamed of… of something like that, when I was younger; getting accepted, invited, praised. The real thing was nowhere near as nice,” he chuckled bitterly. “Anyway, I wanted to give it a try, try to be nice and going to whatever I could -- not everything, since I still had my duties to fulfill, but as many as possible, and I send back polite refusals to those I couldn’t attend. Or at least, I tried to. Just as I was trying to sort out the sudden flux of messages, I was taken aside by Intelligence Agents and Protocol bots, to say nothing of the Councilmechs.” At Bulkhead’s look, he added. “No, Blurr wasn’t involved. Intelligence has subdivisions, and it’s not his own who… well, who make me understand that I shouldn’t chose anything by myself.”

Optimus sighed. “See, in all the invitations I got, there were some coming from… rival parties and what Intelligence like to call ‘dissident factions’. Bots who had different opinions of what Cybertron’s political stand should be like. I never realized just how much work Ultra Magnus had with them; we like to present an united front, but you wouldn’t believe just how much trouble is brewing under the surface.”

“I think I would,” Bulkhead said quietly. Optimus glanced at him. “It’s old, I was just a youngling at the time, but I do remember my Creators going on a protest against cuts in the Energon Production and Storage’s budget. I do remember the whole town being on edge, though I didn’t understand why at the time. I later learned there had been some kind of political maneuver in the Guilds Domesticus, which had resulted in important cuts which had impaired the energon farmers’ work. Someone thought that energon crystals’ production was too costly, and that we would be better off drilling on planets to get fossil fuels we could refine. Except, lots of these planets had life on them, and it did anger the xenobiologists and general scientist communities dealing with organic studies that we would sacrifice other species, when energon crystal were safer, easier to manage and reliable, wherever nobody could be sure how long a planet could be exploited before its ressources run dry.” He rubbed his head absentmindedly. “It was a fine mess, and it was further fueled by opposite running forces in the Council and Senate. In the end, Ultra Magnus decided against the project, and reworked his budget as to make things even, but Moonbase I and II were on the edge of a revolution.”

“I had… never heard of that,” Optimus admitted.

Bulkhead had a thin smile. “You said it yourself; Cybertronian authorities always like to present an united front, but in truth? It’s a freaking war zone, and none of them is particularly nice. Granted, there are good bots among these guys -- Council member Botanica is very good at what she does, and there had been favorable echoes about Senator Zenith before he chose to retire due to a fragile health -- but for the most part, most of them don’t care much about the consequences or who they hurt so long they get what they want.” He sighed. “What have they done to you, Optimus? After Megatron… you’re too much of a symbol to not be used in some way. I admit I don’t know much about stuff like this, but Sari and Bumblebee watched a lot of things on TV back on Earth and well, anyone can guess where this is going. So… what happened?”

The Prime was silent for a long while. “... I was explicitly told to avoid going to some parties, whereas I was told to attend some at any costs. It wasn’t made an order… at first,” he allowed. “It turns out, I was strongly encouraged to associate with the same people the Magnus obviously approved of, to show I was… sharing the same ideas and ideals. I… wouldn’t have minded so much, I had been allowed to chose, but as it was… And some of these people, they were just…” he trailed off. “They weren’t… let’s just say some of their decisions and ideas were highly controversials. Even among them, there was in-fighting. About taxes, and politics and alliances, among other stuff. About what to do with the captured Decepticons and Megatron in particular, too,” he shuffled nervously. “I… They asked me to openly and publicly back some of their projects, from a new process to refine energon crystals to laws they wanted to pass. No, they ordered me to,” he said, lips pursed. “When it was shown it wasn’t popular among the general population, they had me give a public speech to back them up. I don’t think I ever felt more awkward, because I wasn’t really supporting them; if anything, I was on the same side as the citizens! But an order is an order,” he sighed.

He paused and looked at Bulkhead. “I was getting so troubled I asked to return to Earth. Though it isn’t our official outpost, it’s one of the few places I knew I’d feel better at. I was told I couldn’t. Should I leave Cybertron, it would be to go and maintain Space Bridges, just as we did before we encountered the Allspark. And even that was impossible, since you were being selected for a mission with Intelligence and Prowl was incapacitated. New rule: no crew leaving Cybertron could count less than four members, or five if they had to head toward the edges of the Commonwealth. And, of course, nobody could be spared to become our fourth,” he sighed. “After that… they tried to start a smear campaign against Sentinel, just after you left. I was asked to act as witness of his ‘dubious morality and character’, as to ‘show the good citizens we never approved of him and whatever he has done is in no way connected to them’. They said I would have even more impact, since I had actually known him since Boot Camp, that it would be best if they could push him out as to make me his de facto replacement.” He tightened his fists. “I refused, point blank. Sentinel and I have a… very strained relationship, but he was friend once, and I would never backstab him like that. He’s the one who had always wanted to be Magnus, not I.”

Bulkhead nodded, his fists also tightening. These fraggers tried to badmouth his Endura, did they? Oh, to have one of them before him, with his wrecking-ball ready to be used...

Optimus wasn’t finished. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have been as vocal when I explained my protests. It certainly didn’t amuse some mechs, especially among the Senators. The Council itself, they were somewhat kinder and understanding -- or at least, they seemed to be. I’m not good enough in politics to known if their concerns and agreements were false or real. As it is, I…” he paused and swallowed. “Some time after I made my feelings known on some of the most serious matters they wanted me to have a part in, I came back home and started to feel unease. I… I wasn’t able to prove it, or even to find any proof, but I’m sure my apartment -- or rather, the apartment they gave me -- had been… visited. I… I always had the impression to be watched after that.”

Bulkhead almost growled. “They bugged your quarters?”

Optimus looked down. “I never found a single proof it was, but I fear so. It stressed me so much, I just couldn’t… couldn’t bear to recharge in it again. I ended up sleeping in my cabin aboard Omega Supreme, or catching some recharge at the Cyber-Dojo whenever I could. I was always welcome to visit Prowl and Jazz seemed to know what was bothering me. He never said as much or hinted at anything, but I’m almost certain he knows.”

“That explain why you looked so tired last time…” Bulkhead mumbled. “Optimus? You said they didn’t agree with what to do with Megatron; what have they suggested that make you so… so nervous and ill-at-ease? And don’t say it’s nothing, because I doubt ‘nothing’ would wreck your processor so much,” he warned.

Optimus hesitated and Bulkhead felt his spark sink. It was that bad, then? “Please,” he asked again. “I’m your friend and I want to help. Let me try.”

The Prime shook his head. “There is little you can do for me, Bulkhead,” he said sadly. “Megatron… they’re pretty divided on the issue. Some said we should execute him immediately, in secret, before showing his head and deactivated frame as proof he is no more. It would totally violate the Autobots’ Laws and values! More are in favor of public trials, which would surely result in a death sentence anyway, but they do think we should use the system, as if he was any other mech. Some… some are in favor of ransoming him back to the Decepticons,” he said, grimacing, and Bulkhead gasped. “Yes, it was my feeling too. Then some approached me, about… about something we -- the Autobots -- should obtain from Megatron before his demise…” He stopped talking, optics lost and vents working hard. Bulkhead frowned.

“Optimus? What did they ask of you?”

“A sparkling,” he said in a whisper, and Bulkhead’s jaw dropped. “These mechs, they… Decepticons are incredibly loyal to Megatron, and his ideas, and… they seem to think if he had an heir, a real, CNA-related heir, raised as an Autobot, they could use that heir to control the Decepticons, made them less likely to attack us. And they said… as the one who defeated Megatron, it would prove something more to them, because as a warrior-oriented culture, they respect strenght. A sparkling from their Lord and the one who ‘bested’ him…” Optimus shrugged, looking very pale. “I can’t do that, Bulkhead. I told them. I won’t rape a bot -- and it would be rape! -- or allow him to rape me to, to… carry on an insane idea which has little chance of working! Yes, it’s true I’d like to have a sparkling, and even a second if Primus will it, but not… not like that, not with Megatron! They told me… they told me it mattered little, if I liked him or not, but that as a ‘hero’ of Cybertron and the Autobots, I should known where my duty laid and act accordingly.”

Bulkhead took deep breaths, vents overworking to try and cool him down. He felt… furious. How dare they demand something like that from Optimus?! “Did you talk about it with Ultra Magnus?” Their leader wasn’t the nicest or cleanest ‘bot there was, Bulkhead was conscious of it, but even he wouldn’t sink so low… he hoped.

Optimus shuttered his optics. “I tried to talk to him, but he’s still receiving heavy treatments. He can’t really speak now, though he is coherent and can hear us. I don’t think he’s really happy with everything people are planning behind his back, but he is in no shape to stop them now. The way he squeezed my hand and looked at me when I tried to talk to him about that… that particular idea was very telling of his disapprobation. But a berth-ridden mech can’t do much to stop them,” he sighed.

“... they’re really going to force you to…?” Bulkhead asked after a long silence.

“... No, I don’t think so. At least, not without a large amount of supporters, and so far, they can’t find any. The idea sounds crazy or morally dubious even among the most opportunistic politicians. Alpha Trion took a very strong stand against the very idea, and he has the majority of the Council with him, as well as a share of the Senators. So long they’re not swayed, nothing will come from this… ‘heir’ idea.”

Well, that was a relief, and Bulkhead sagged as he heard the news. “Thank Primus,” he mumbled. “Someone else is in the known about it? Bumblebee? Ratchet? Prowl? Jazz? Blurr? Or even Sari?” he asked, wondering if the other were watching Optimus’ back while he swim with the Sharkticons.

Optimus grimaced. “Sari is too young to be told about such things, and Bumblebee… I like him, a lot, but I don’t think I can trust him with such a sensitive information. Prowl should focus on his recovery, not on other people’s problems. Jazz and Blurr… they know, and they tried to cheer me, but… we’re not that close,” he shifted uneasily.

“And Ratchet? I notice you haven’t cited him,” Bulkhead said.

“... I can’t tell him, he’s so busy with… with Arcee, I don’t want to add to his problems,” the Prime said quietly. Bulkhead almost snorted, thinking it was a poor excuse. Then something struck him.

“I’m the first one you told?” Frag, no wonder Optimus had been so down! Gently, he passed a hand around the Prime’s shoulders in comfort. Optimus leaned in the embrace without resistance, and just let himself be hugged, optics dim. “You shouldn’t go back,” Bulkhead said, careful.

The Prime looked up at him. “But I must. The rest of the team is on Cybertron, and I… I need to keep an optic on them. You think I’m having it bad? Well, I don’t want anyone to use them like that. Bumblebee craves attention so much, they would eat him alive. Prowl would disappear if he could, but so long as he’s injured… Sari’s status as techno-organic always put her at risk, and Ratchet…” he paused, unsure of what to say about the medic. His cheeks reddened a bit, which didn’t escape Bulkhead, who tried not to smile. The Prime shook his head. “I can’t just not go back. Even… even if staying here would feel so much better and safer,” he sighed.

“Countryside appeals to you?” the green mech rumbled, sounding peaceful and hopeful. Frag it, he would take Optimus in without any second thought if things were different; were they on Moonbase II, he would have taken him to his Creators’ farm, and introduced him to his extended family, he would have found a good mech among his unbonded uncles or older cousins, and make sure Optimus got a good life…

“It looks so peaceful here,” the Prime sighed. “And raising mechanimals and growing mechanicrops… it sounds hard, but rewarding. An honest, important job. I… the interfacing thing sounds very… kinky,” he said, cheeks red, “but at the same time… Mechas here aren’t afraid to show they love each others, and the sparklings… I don’t think I saw so many at once since I left the Youth Sectors!” There was a little wistful tone to his voice, and Bulkhead hugged him harder. Optimus would have made a great Creator… “Speaking of sparkling, the carrying mech we met last time… Pollen? How is he?”

Bullkhead chuckled. “Perfectly fine. His sixth emerged last decacycle, a little mech they called Brasspetal. Sentinel helped with the emergence.”

Optimus blinked. “Sixth? So many…” he whispered, then he blinked. “Excuse me? Did you just said Sentinel had helped to birth a sparkling?” He must have misheard… But Bulkhead nodded with a blink. A slow smile formed on Optimus’ lips. “Suddenly, I feel like laughing.”

“Don’t tease him, will you?” Bulkhead said good naturedly, poking him. Optimus laughed a bit but whispered a ‘sure’, still smiling. It was good to see the Boss-bot smiling. He deserved an happier lot in life. Honestly, it was high time he found himself someone… or declared himself to the mech he was crushing on. “You know… you should find yourself a nice mech to share your berth, or a nice femme,” he said, very serious.

Optimus choked. “Wh… What?!”

Bulkhead nodded. “You heard me. Honestly, don’t tell me you never thought about it, I know you’d be lying,” he said, looking sternly at his friend.

Optimus shifted, blushing. “Ah, Bulkhead… as… ‘nice’ as it is of you to worry about… that, I don’t think…”

“I think it would be the perfect moment for you to speak about it. It would allow you to ease your mind about your other… problems,” he said, lips thin, and Optimus winced. Bulkhead patted him on the shoulder and tried to look happier. “Honestly, I started thinking about ‘the One’ when I was still in my youngling years, and I bet you did too. You said you never saw Sentinel or… Elita, in a romantic way, but I’m sure there was a bot in Autoboot Camp who held your interest. Eck, I know for a fact I eyed Bumblebee a bit back then!”

Optimus’ optics widened. “You had a crush on Bumblebee?” He didn’t comment on the fact he himself might have had a crush in Boot Camp, Bulkhead noted.

“Hmm, yes. For about a decacycle, perhaps. Then I decided I’d rather have him as a friend rather than at a potential lover. And you, Optimus? Did you have a crush on someone back then?”

Optimus blushed. “I had no crush, not on any of my classmates!”

Ah, ah! ‘Classmates’! Which meant he had had a crush on someone else. Wait, who did he said was the one in charge of training when he had been a Cadet, again? He had mentioned it once… “You had a crush on your Drill Sergeant,” Bulkhead guessed. Optimus sputtered, and Bulkhead grinned. “Who was it again? Ah, yes! Kup Minor!”

“I… I never!” Optimus stammered.

Bulkhead chuckled. “Oh, please Optimus. We all know you like older mechs… well, except Ratchet, I guess. I mean, we noticed you had a crush on the Magnus at some point, and I saw video recording of some of the lectures given at the Academy by Great War’s veterans. You can clearly be seen at the third rank, obviously in awe and with slightly red cheeks, staring at the lecturer. I mean, we pretty much noticed you had something more than hero worship at some point for Ultra Magnus, and I can’t see how Ratchet hasn’t noticed the way you looked at him.”

Optimus’ jaw worked for a moment. “What do you mean, you ‘all knew’ I loved older mech, except Ratchet?!”

“Pretty much what I said,” Bulkhead said, shrugging. “Doc is the only one who hasn’t figured you prefered older models to mechs and femmes of your age. Guess he isn’t used to being paid attention to… Anyway, we all noticed how you kept looking at him, especially after the first encounter with Lockdown. If he can’t see it, even now, he should get his optics checked...”

“Ratchet is absolutely perfect the way he is,” Optimus snapped immediately. Bulkhead just grinned at him, and Optimus blushed and shuffled uneasily, realising he had pretty much admitted he did love Ratchet with that simple sentence. “... It doesn’t matter anyway. He… It’s Arcee he loves. Me, I’m… I’ve no chance.”

“You don’t know that,” Bulkhead said gruffly. “You should talk to him before abandoning. You might be surprised.”

Optimus sighed. “I don’t think so. It’s obvious he likes her; he can’t help but speak of her each time we see each others, and he spend all his time since the Great War thinking of her and a way to cure her. I can’t compete, I know it… I just can’t seem to make my spark drop the matter,” he sighed.

“You should listen to your spark more often,” Bulkhead prompted.

“I know you’re trying to cheer me up, Bulkhead, but…” he shook his head. “Nevermind. I think I’m going to go on a walk for a moment. I need to clear my CPU. I trust my presence isn’t indispensable for now?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he rose and took a few steps. “You can join me by comm. link any time, tell me if you need me.” And with that, he transformed and sped up.

Bulkhead frowned a bit as he descended the steps. It was bad forms to use one’s altmode like that, but since Optimus wasn’t a farmer… he sighed and turned on his heels, ready to go back inside. Machinally, he raised his head to watch how high the sun was… and found Ratchet standing before the open window, optics wide as he watched the dirt trail on which Optimus had disappeared. Bulkhead’s jaw dropped open. Damn…

:: _... Well, I suppose it’s a way to learn,_ :: he send by comm. link, trying to sound casual. :: _Sentinel isn’t with you? What did you say to him about that ‘virus’?_ ::

:: _That I didn’t have an antivirus patch with me but that there was nothing to worry about, as it was very minor and should erase itself over time. He went downstair to deal with the Twins. Heard them say they were going to do new Copper-Cookies,_ :: he answered by reflex before grumbling. :: _Don’t change subject! How long have you known about.. about...?_ :: 

:: _Well, pretty much since Lockdown first came to Earth, as I said,_ :: Bulkhead pointed out. :: _Pretty hard to ignore a bot who is fingering his valve and stroking his spike while calling out the medic’s name,_ :: he mentioned, making Ratchet choke. :: _I think Prowl got a hint at the same time. Bumblebee… I’m not too sure about him, but he did get it at some point._ :: 

:: _And you never told me!_ :: 

:: _Uh, we thought you would finally get the hint too, and that you would think we were joking if we told you ourselves and that you’d try to kill us?_ :: Bulkhead tried. 

:: _I wouldn’t have killed you,_ :: Ratchet snapped. :: _And I would have liked to know, if only to avoid awkward situations!_ :: 

:: _I don’t see how it could have made things more awkward than they were already,_ :: Bulkhead shouted back. :: _Besides, once Optimus got in his head you were in love with Arcee, he pretty much stopped trying to get your attention, so it seemed pointless._ :: 

:: _But I’m not in love with Arcee!_ :: Ratchet said, puzzled. :: _I care for her, true, but not… not in a romantic way! She’s… damn it, you haven’t known the War, you don’t know how much it can gnaw at you…!_ :: 

:: _I know,_ :: Bulkhead send, to the obvious surprise of the medic. :: _I know that you don’t love her like that, and I know how important War buddies can be. My Sire served in the conflict, and so did a couple of our neighbors. They were always pretty close, in a way that was almost shameful, and outsiders sometimes thought they were having affairs. But it wasn’t the case; they just… they went through so much together they were closer than actual siblings or lovers,_ :: he explained. :: _I get it. But Optimus doesn’t. And since you never noticed, well…_ :: he trailed off. 

Ratchet facepalmed. :: _Young mechs… If he just had told me, I could have told him I…_ :: he paused. 

:: _That you’re interested?_ :: Bulkhead suggested with a grin. :: _He’d be delighted to hear that._ :: 

:: _I think you’re both losing it. Just look at me,_ :: the medic insisted. :: _I’m an old model, nasty, ancient,... Optimus should rather try to romance someone closer to his own age._ :: 

:: _But he doesn’t want someone from his generation, he wants YOU,_ :: Bulkhead pointed out, insisting on the ‘you’. :: _He likes bots older than him -- and given how much experience they’re said to have, he might be onto something, especially with a medic._ :: Ratchet sputtered, and Bulkhead continued. :: _Did I mention the fingering thing? He did it very often, just so you know, and unless I’m mistaken, he still does. So yes, he wants you, and badly,_ :: he insisted. 

:: _... that makes no sense,_ :: Ratchet said, shaking his head. 

:: _Perhaps for you, but it sure does for him,_ :: Bulkhead said back. :: _Talk to him, Ratch. Talk to him and try to work something out. He doesn’t leave you indifferent, right?_ :: The medic said nothing, but from his look, Bulkhead knew he was right. :: _Please, give it a try. Optimus is a good mech, and you are too. And sincerely, given the circumstances, I’d prefer him to have someone who won’t use him in some plot._ :: 

Ratchet’s voice darkened. :: _Yes, I heard about that. Bombing the Senate and Metroplex isn’t just done, but slag if it isn’t tempting,_ :: he growled. 

:: _You tell me,_ :: Bulkhead nodded. :: _Ratch… please, give it a try… For Optimus’ sake, if nothing else,_ :: he pleaded. 

:: _... I’ll talk to him,_ :: the medic relented. :: _Even if I still think he must be mistaken and that he could find someone much nicer to love and be loved by,_ :: he warned. 

Bulkhead had to grin. :: _Sure he does,_ :: he said goodnaturedly, feeling giddy. With any luck, they wouldn’t even wait to be back on Cybertron before sharing a first kiss, or even a first interface… Okay, perhaps not the interface right away, but he was positive there would be a kiss before the end of the solar-cycle. 

Ratchet coughed. “Bulkhead, you should get back inside; I don’t trust Sentinel alone in a kitchen with the Twins!” 

Bulkhead laughed. “Aww, come on! Sentinel knows what he does!” There was smoke escaping from the windows of the kitchen. “... At least, when he’s not getting distracted and ‘helped’ by two hyperactive younglings.” 

And with that, he rushed inside, his spark feeling lighter than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Infos:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The Senate:  
> For ages, Cybertron has been mainly governed by the Magnus and Cybertron High Council. But long before the Council took its actual form, where the civilian leadership has a right to the decisions affecting the planet, Cybertron's main governing institution was the Senate, composed exclusively of Nobles and the richest mechs of the planet.  
> Nowaday, their influence is barely noticeable to the average mech, but Senators still keep some power, as several of their members are elected to serve on the High Council. They're still known to back up military campaigns, various construction and developpment projects as well as sponsporing Cadets still in the Academy, posing as interested benefactors. However, the more astute bots know that, behind their generous and benevolent appearance, they're still trying to regain their former importance, and their plans tend to be more morally dubious than the ones the Council can come up with...


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stella cycle is ending, and a new one is beginning. Of course, it has to be celebrated, to Sentinel's dismay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it came to my attention the direction the story is taking doesn't please everyone.  
> Well, tough luck; the ending was written already before I started posting. And anyone who looked at the rest of the Woes series know I'm not being nice to Sentinel.  
> *sighs* I get that you may or may not like what I'm doing to the characters. That said, if it makes you uncomfortable... Pay attention to the warnings, will you? There're here for a reason, and I think I was clear enough with them. If you think I'd need to put more to warn readers, do tell me, I'll add them.  
> And if you don't like where I'm heading, nobody is forcing you to read...
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the rant. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter.

The fires were burning brightly before the Temple, and Sentinel looked at them with a mix of distaste and wariness, knowing full well what they represented. Frag, why did Bulkhead insist they had to come to every Festival the town was putting together?! Oh, sure, the oaf very much insisted that ‘we shouldn’t compromise our cover by snubbing the get-togethers’, but Sentinel felt less and less enthralled by anything having to do with ‘celebrations’ around here. Especially when they always ended with him getting publically fragged, or having to watch other couples publically frag too. Slag, would that kill him to skip an invite just once?!

But nooooo, the oaf had to say ‘yes’ to everything and point out that no one missed the Festivals if they could help it. Sentinel had remarked, snapping, that mechs like Claymate, Threasher or Shimmersun did miss them, as Sentinel couldn’t remember seeing them among the crowd each time. To which Bulkhead had pointed out that they did came to the public celebrations, where the younglings and sparklings were welcome and played, but that they couldn’t exactly join the ‘end celebrations’ due to the fact they weren’t Bonded, widowed or with an absent Conjunx respectively. And Claymate or Threasher could join in and would this time.

Apparently, even as celibate -- which was rather rare given how much energon farmers’ life turned around interfacing and how insistent they were about Bonding as soon as possible -- you could participate to some of the Festivals. A priest or a Sister would then temporarily take the role of a spouse, more often than not as Endura. Threasher tended not to, as he was still being faithful to the memory of his dead Bonded, and Claymate only participated to LastNight Festivals, though he had been known to take a part in the others before stopping a couple of vorns ago. Shimmersun was the only one of the lot who would and could not participate, as he was Bonded and was waiting for his Bonded’s return.

From the way both Claymate and Threasher were sweetly talking with Sister Alhena and Pastor Alkes, it was obvious the two mechs were preparing themselves to spend a good, long night.

Long, Sentinel didn’t doubt it would be. Good… that remained to be seen, he thought as he shuffled nervously, trying to not optic the fires or the cover Bulkhead had spread out for him to lay on too much. The oaf was happily beckoning him to come sit, grinning widely. Sentinel found it creepy, the way he kept looking at him since it was now know they were… officially… Bonded.

Really, the whole matter send shivers down Sentinel’s spinal struts. Bonded! With no legal way to separate! He was struck with a mech he could barely stand… except when they were interfaced, but Sentinel couldn’t stand interfacing! … Okay, it was a lie. The overloads felt… good and relaxed his frame in a way he had never felt before. It was just… it was BULKHEAD! When Sentinel had pictured his future Bonded as a sparkling -- long before he decided to be a career mech -- he had always seen himself at the arm of a pretty femme or a reasonably handsome mech (but not as handsome as he, of course), slightly smaller than him for convenience sake. He had also pictured himself doing the spiking, when he had been older and had a general understand of where sparklings came from. Instead, his ‘Bonded’ was a below average mech in terms of beauty, looming over him and fragging his valve so often that the damn thing seemed to just throb whenever it was empty!

… that was more than mildly disturbing, he thought as he felt such a throb.

The only real solace he found in this situation was Bulkhead’s status as a ‘hero’. Blurr was right, there was something here that could help his tarnished image, if he just found the right way to exploit it. The only thing to do now, was to actually find a way he could exploit it. Hmm, perhaps a fancy dinner in one of Cybertron’s best restaurants, with a few reporters being there ‘without their knowledge’? He would have to treat the oaf to a good polishing before, but there was potential here, he mused.

An arm snaked around his waist and yanked him down, making him yelp. Bulkhead just chuckled as he made him sat in his laps and nuzzled his face with a goofy smile. “Oh, Sentinel, relax, would you?”

The Prime glared at him and tried to get away. “I hardly feel the setting relaxing,” he groused.

Bulkhead blinked. “Really? Most mechs usually find a starry night and the light of flames romantic.” He kept a steady hold on the Prime, not allowing him to bulge.

“Well I’m not romantic,” Sentinel said between gritted teeth as he finally stopped getting away. “Especially since I know exactly how the night is going to end up,” he added as he glared at Sister Ara, Pastor Acrux and Father Spica, who had gathered in a corner and were speaking to each other in low voices. “I don’t want to!” he said in a low voice, casting wary looks around, but the other couples were too busy snuggling to really care about them, thankfully.

“Of course you don’t,” Bulkhead murmured as he slid a hand under Sentinel’s dress, making the Prime yelp and try to escape once more. Bulkhead kept him steady, though, as he rubbed his hand between Sentinel’s legs, stroking the edges of his valve and making the Prime squirm uneasily, cheeks flushing as it became obvious his valve was lubricating.

“Ssss… stop that,” he almost snarled, but it came more as a mewl than anything else.

“You need to relax, Love. You’re so tense, it isn’t good for you,” Bulkhead said back as he leaned forward to kiss Sentinel, just as the Prime caught sight of the passing Pastor Alkes who was joining Claymate on a nearby cover. Ah, so Bulkhead was acting like that because they could be overheard?... Frag it, what could they never be alone so they could resume a… a healthier relationship? And by healthier, Sentinel meant one where it was obvious he was the CO and they didn’t interface every few megacycles! Knowing there was no way to avoid it, he let Bulkhead kiss him and, to show he was giving up, passed his arms around the oaf’s neck.

It took only a moment for Bulkhead to shift and change their positions, gently pushing Sentinel down so he would lay flat on his back, the larger mech looming and leaning over him as he trailed his neck, face and shoulders with little kisses. Optics shuttered, Sentinel let him do it. Kisses weren’t so bad, and at least Bulkhead wasn’t caressing him anymore. He could still feel his valve becoming slick, easy to enter as the oaf pressed harder against him.

In the Temple, a bell started to toll, making the couples pause in their snuggling as they raised their heads as to watch Father Spica aim a pressurized jet on the first of the thirteen fires burning in an half-circle before the steps. The thirteen fires symbolizing the thirteen hours left until the official end of the planetary rotation around the sun. The end of the year, according to them, better celebrated by couples showing their love to each other once more, each time one of the hour was past, until finally, they would enter the new planetary rotation.

Thirteen hours of interfacing. Sentinel didn’t know if he should be horrified or impressed these mechs could last so long. Part of his snorted, thinking that all the interfacing they did on an average day might actually just be training for this night.

As Father Spica put out the first flame and the light decreased slightly, Bulkhead grinned at him and pushed his skirt up, taking his time to enjoy the sight of Sentinel’s panty-covered crotch, which made the Prime blushes in humiliation and perhaps, just perhaps, a tad in excitement.

“They’re really nice,” Bulkhead commented as he let his panel slid aside and his spike extend. “You make a very nice view,” he complimented the Prime as he laid down on him, kissing him as his spike pressed firmly between Sentinel’s legs, just short of entering him. It made the Prime whimper and shake, even more so when Bulkhead just grabbed his aft and lifted him, just a little, as to align their interface arrays, the tip of his rod pushing insistently at his port, between two ruffles of pale pink lace. “Ready?”

Sentinel grunted, trying to sound stronger than he felt at the moment. “Of course I’m readyyyyyyyy,” he moaned as Bulkhead thrusted, his large spike starting to slide inside him easily -- his valve had long since stretched enough to be able to take the huge length without much problem, and to Sentinel’s mortification, he had been lubricating more than he had realized; the edges of the panties were actually soaked in his fluids.

“Ooooooohhh,” he moaned as Bulkhead shifted inside him and started to thrust at a slow pace. By reflex, Sentinel passed his legs around Bulkhead’s waist, trying to hold him closer to him as he thrusted still, stuffing him full in a way that Sentinel found almost agonizing. He wanted it to be faster! His body shook and he couldn’t help but mewl or whimper as the large length stroked his sensor nodes as it went deeper into him, settling them alight with pleasurable sensations. It almost fell as if he was going to overload right away, but it didn’t happen.

The Prime wondered if he should be disappointed or not before Bulkhead started to move, and then he couldn’t think about much aside of the slow thrust inside him, the movements of the hips against him, and trying to match their rhythm himself as he let pleasure submerge him. He didn’t even think at his lack of contraceptive chips -- he had used the last one almost two decacycles ago, and sadly, Blurr hadn’t brought new one, arguing that their visit had been unplanned and quickly decided and put together for the sake of the Jettwins, thus letting him little time to bother himself with supplies -- as he was getting ‘faced, though later he would probably freak out.

It lasted… he didn’t care just how long it lasted, only that by the time Bulkhead had overloaded, finally, spilling his transfluid inside him, his valve kept rippling and squeezing around the Space Bridge technician’s length, making him whimper in pleasure as he threw his head back, legs firmly bound around his lover’s waist. Bulkhead grunted with his release but didn’t stay still long as Sentinel’s valve greedily milked his spike for the littlest drop of transfluid. With care and tenderness, he made Sentinel’s dress partially fall from his shoulders, starting to lavish the revealed armor with little kisses and licks even as he continued to rock his hips back and forth -- for despite overloading, his spike was still hard and ready for another round.

Around them, couples were busy doing the same thing. Sentinel caught a glimpse of Mayor Levitacus exchanging a deep kiss with Safepath while he was still pounding inside Yoke, who in turn was using his glossa on Safepath’s valve… It made him blush and quickly turn his head to the side.

Glancing around and trying very hard to to watch other couples interfacing, his optics fell on the thirteen -- well, twelve now -- fire still alight and bright. He didn’t know what sort of chemicals the priests had added to them, but they were burning in unusual colors, from deep purple and bright pink to soft orange and light blue. Sentinel watched them for a klik, not feeling Bulkhead still moving inside him or the kisses he kept depositing on his bare shoulders, until one particular thrust just hit the right sensor and make him arch in sudden, uncontrollable pleasure.

“Uuugh!” he groaned as he overloaded, valve still rippling madly around Bulkhead’s spike. In turn, it seemed to make the oaf overload a second time, and Sentinel was very aware of the sudden rush of hot fluids inside him. He made a small sound, half-distress and half-relief, when Bulkhead let his now limp length slid out and let himself drop to the side, propped on an elbow even as he brought Sentinel closer to him. By reflex, the Prime tugged at the skirt of his dress as to hide away any incriminating bit, but let himself be dragged against the hot frame next to him and even be nuzzled and kisses.

Bulkhead was definitely a fan of cuddling, he mused as he shifted to lay on his side, facing Bulkhead. He blinked as he was ended a small cube of oil, but accepted it readily and gulped down on the fuel with a voracity which made Bulkhead chuckled as himself drunk his own cube at a more level rhythm.

“I must really have tired you, if you refueling so fast,” he teased, just smiling at Sentinel angry look.

“You certainly did not,” he snapped, before lowering his voice, conscious that some other couples had also finished their ‘business’ and could very well listen to them. “I’m just… hungry, that all! I’m not tired at all!”

Bulkhead nodded. “That’s good to hear. That means you’ll be ready for round 2 when the second flame will be put out, and for the following ones,” he said, finishing his cube and reaching for a nearby plate of goodies he had taken the liberty to take on the buffet for a post-overload snack. “Beryllium-Biscuits?”

Sentinel paled a bit at the reminder. He gulped. “Let’s… let’s not be too hasty,” he stammered. “I mean, we have some time left, right?”

Bulkhead checked his chronometer. “Hmm, about ten cycles, I’d say.” Sentinel choked. They hadn’t… their coupling couldn’t have lasted almost half a megacycle?! At his stunned look, Bulkhead had to grin. “I like to think I’m not a bad lover. Looking at how much you seem to enjoy yourself when I take you, I’d say you’re rather satisfied too.” Sentinel blushed and opened his mouth to said something, anything, to dispel the idea, but Bulkhead shoved the plate at him. “Please, refuel, you’ll need it,” he said with a soft kiss on Sentinel’s forehead, which the Prime tried to avoid, to no avail.

His fuel tank and spark sinking as he realized the oaf was right, Sentinel made quick work of the various goodies offered to him, letting Bulkhead pick one from time to time, though the big mech mainly stuck to oil cubes he downed at a quiet pace, watching Sentinel with a little smile and glancing at the fires from time to time.

The bell tolled again in the Temple, and the second fire was soon extinguished as the light dimmed again and couples started to make more pleasured sounds -- they were very, very loud, Sentinel thought desperately as Bulkhead manhandled him to make him go down on his hands and knees; he really hoped he wasn’t as loud as them, because really… -- and just… interfaced in semi-obscurity.

Aft in the air, his dress having pooled around his waist and over his back, Sentinel could only gasp as he was entered once more, Bulkhead still being incredibly slow and careful. It made the -- though he refused to confess it aloud -- very aroused Prime grit his teeth, his valve clenching by reflex as his body sagged. “F… faster,” he asked trying to move his hips to impale himself faster and harder on the length penetrating him.

“Not yet,” Bulkhead murmured. “I want to keep my strength, Love, and I don’t want to hurt you. We’ll play rough later, alright?” And with that, he finished thrusting and let himself pause and relax, savoring the feeling of the tight, hot, wet valve surrounding his rod, rippling along it in a most wonderful and perfect way. Say what you wanted about Sentinel’s personality, his body was just gorgeous. With that thought, he started to rock inside Sentinel, enjoying the moans and whimpers of pleasure it elicited from the Prime.

Night continued at this pace; for each flame put out, they made love once more, varying the positions -- Bulkhead took Sentinel as he wanted, from behind or flat on his back or atop of him, riding his spike --, and taking advantages of the lulls between two interfaces and the put out of the next flame to refuel and exchange pleasants words with some of the nearby couples, mainly Nightglow and Farrier, who were always happy to speak with them. Bulkhead also cuddled with his Enduras, feeling very happy with himself.

Sentinel, not so much.

His valve was starting to feel very sore, his panties and dress were stained with the fluids gushing out of his valve, and frag it, his reproduction chamber almost felt bloated with the amount of transfluid Bulkhead had filled him with! Frag, frag, frag, frag, frag, he kept repeating himself. It was like this that most bots ended up sparked, he knew; by absorbing enough transfluids, their bodies just signaled they were ready to conceive. But Sentinel didn’t want to! Never before he had so much wanted a contraceptive chip; if he had known exactly how this ‘mission’ was going to turn, he would have brought more, or… or economized them!

That said, there was also a good chance he wouldn’t end up sparked. It took time to get sparked, and contraceptives could have a slightly lasting effect up to two decacycles, even after you stopped using them. At least, that what he had read once in a datafiles while waiting for a checkup at a clinic on Cybertron. He really, really hoped the mech who had wrote it was right, he prayed as he took a cube from Bulkhead’s hands with shaking hands.

There was only one more flame burning now, solitary, and Father Spica was already near by, hands joined in a prayer of his own, just as couples started to lay back on their covers, chatting happily. The obscurity was almost total, now, and Sentinel could only tell who was where by the outlines and silhouettes the pale light allowed him to do. He would need to change his optics setting to make them adjust to the lack of light…

“Sentinel? Time to drop your dress,” Bulkhead said as he leaned against his back, kissing his neck. Sentinel instantly froze.

“What?! No way I…”

“We need to share sparks, Sentinel,” Bulkhead cut him immediately as he put his large hands on Sentinel’s shoulders and tried to make the fabric slid off, Sentinel immediately crossing his arms as to avoid getting denuded. Which was pretty stupid, he came to think, since he had nothing to hide, exactly -- his body was the same as any other mech -- but it was the best way to protect the access to his spark chamber. The damn dress was getting to him, he thought as Bulkhead insisted and pulled at the sleeves.

“No, no, no and no,” Sentinel groused, trying not to raise his voice too much and get too much attention. Around them, he could make out small light, coming from opening spark casings. It stumped him. “I thought Sparks were supposed to be private? Never seen or shared in public? You promised me they were!”

“And they are, but this is a special occasion. It’s the last time of the year a couple can do it, and show Primus how much they love each other, and it’s in the dark, so it is private,” Bulkhead explained. “Nobody see you, so there is nothing to fear,” he tried to cajole the Prime, and profited from a minute of inattention as the bell started to toll to yank down the top of the dress as to make the chest apparent.

Sentinel yelped as the fabric as pulled off him and he was flipped to lie on his back, Bulkhead already settling between his legs -- for someone so big and clumsy, he could be incredibly fast and precise. The Prime fumbled with the fabric, trying to put it back on, but he only managed to somewhat trap his arms in the sleeves as Bulkhead spread his legs wide, positioning himself for their last interface of the night.

“Bulkhead, no,” Sentinel pleaded. The repeated interfaces, he could live with, but not… not being actually Bonded, sparkbonded he meant, to the oaf. A single time wasn’t enough. A second was already a risk. And Sentinel didn’t want the risk.

“Shh,” the green mech soothed him as he once again pushed his spike inside the Prime’s port, making his moan and arch his back at the new onslaught of sensations. “I’ll be nice, I promise.”

The flame went out. Darkness settle in, until little lights bloomed all around and couple screamed in ecstasy as sparks were shared, mixing into a whole, an explosion of sensations and memories. Bulkhead kept thrusting into Sentinel, gently beckoning him to open his spark chamber, to let him see him whole, and lost in pleasure and slight pain after being taken so many time in so little time, the Prime obeyed. “Beautiful,” Bulkhead murmured as his let his own chestplates part.

“Humm… oh… ‘m not...aaaah,” Sentinel moaned.

“Yes you are,” Bulkhead said quietly. “Remember? I told you that already last time we merged, on our Bonding day. “You’ve a beautiful spark, Sentinel, and I’m proud to be the one it is offered to.”

Sentinel just whimpered in answer, and Bulkhead leaned forward, making sure to join their chests as their sparks merged for the first time since their Bonding ceremony, almost five orbital cycles and half ago. So long, the green mech thought. Far too long, for a couple to go without.

The effects of the merge were about the same as the last time: a rush of emotions and energies, of memories and scattered thoughts and feelings, so tightly bound together one was hard pressed to recognize to who they belonged. It didn’t stop Bulkhead from pumping into Sentinel, as the word reduced to them and to the pleasure they shared as they merged and fragged, a couple among others under the stars.

As overload came through them, making them shout and join their voices to the choir of mechs and femmes going through the same thing, Sentinel heard the bell of the Temple toll once more, as the voice of Father Spica boomed over them.

“Happy NewDawn, Children of Primus!”

And with that, everything became black.

*****************************

“Would you like some Silicon-Salad, Sentinel?”

The Prime smiled thinly at Rennet, who was handing him a salad bowl. “Yes, please,” he said quietly, taking the bowl and trying not to wince as he shifted. His whole body hurt, especially between his thighs, and if Bulkhead hadn’t insisted they had to come and partake in the traditional feast of the NewDawn Festival, he would have spend the day in berth, recharging and trying to rest his sore body.

The ‘traditional meal’ was prepared by the priests, with only mechanicrops having grown on the Temple’s ground -- for they kept a small orchard and a field attached to the building, as a reminder of the Convent it once was -- and was shared by all the villagers, in an effort to draw the community closer together. Bulkhead had mentioned they also hide tokens in some dishes, symbolizing good fortune for those who found them, each one having a different meaning. Hmph, there were worst traditions and superstitions, the Prime had supposed. So far, Sentinel wasn’t unhappy with the event. Sure, he would have prefered to stay in berth and rest, but for once, he could enjoy refueling with dishes he hadn’t had to prepare himself for megacycles beforehand. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he really spend a lot of time in Shady Acres’ kitchen; Bulkhead had quite the appetite when it was time to refuel, and he was often asking for extra treats. What worried Sentinel was that he had started to do them without much prompting, and even once without being asked; he was already in the middle of cooking the Aurum-Apple pie his Conjunx enjoyed so much before it struck him.

Honestly, he didn’t know what was the most worrisome: that he was almost enjoyed baking energon goodies and treats, or that he had really thought of Bulkhead as his Conjunx.

Speaking of Bulkhead… he was standing a few seats away, in deep conversation with Steamroller and Huller about… well, about farm work and mechanicrops, just like usual. Honestly, wasn’t the oaf ever tired of that?... Stupid question, he realized. Energon farmers liked to speak about the same things over and over again, i.e. their farms, their mechanimals, their mechanicrops, their work in general, their interface life, their various pregnancies, their sparklings, other town gossips, and eventually, some news of the Commonwealth they managed to get, thank to a planet-wide and a local newsletters which they received once a decacycle. Of course, they weren’t going to speak of anything else, he sighed and then winced as he felt a sharp throb of pain go through him.

“Sore?” Pollen, who was sitting next to him with little Brasspetal fast asleep in in arms, asked in sympathy. The newspark turned and whimpered in his recharge, and Pollen changed his grip and hummed softly to calm him. He cooed at his newest sparkling in delight. “Don’t you worry, dear, it’s normal,” he said again to Sentinel. “About everyone here is in the same case, I’d say,” he added, gently rocking Brasspetal against him.

“Funny, it doesn’t look quite like that to me,” Sentinel commented, unable to stop himself as he watched various bots mingle and chat around the long table. Nobody seemed to be obviously in pain or anything. Eck, the only ones who seemed a bit down were Apis, Mistcover and Mayor Levitacus, and it was obvious they were more tired than in pain! And of all the Conjunx, Levitacus was the only one who was looking even remotely tired; all the other seemed to be in perfect health, despite their activities of last night. These bots weren’t normal, Sentinel thought with weariness.

“Don’t trust your optics, dear, some of us just know how to hide it better,” Shock, the Endura of Brimstone, who was sitting across him, commented. “Really, I think Brimstone will have to go without any ‘nookie’ for a couple of solar cycles,” he said in good humor, to which the nearby Rennet, Pollen, Dewdrop and Sterling giggled and nodded, commenting their own Conjunx should expect the same thing.

… Well, nice to know that these mechs were somewhat normal, after all, Sentinel thought as he munched on a Silicon-Salad leaf.

“That said, Sentinel, if you feel too much in pain, don’t hesitate to come down at Counterstep’s Office. I always prepare and stock a special healing salve here before the Festival,” Sterling said with a small smile. “There’s always someone who needs it. Oh, and I’ve also a nice little tonic if you or Bulkhead require it. Thirteen times in only half a solar cycles tend to sap the strengths of a lot of people,” he commented, making people chuckle and speak about some anecdotes of the previous stellar cycles’ Festival.

Sentinel couldn’t help but blush as he nodded along. If Bulkhead could tone down the interfacing for a while, he would be overjoyed -- assuming, of course, that the damn virus playing with his libido didn’t act up again; Ratchet had told him it would erase itself on his own after some time, but he had been vague about said time’s duration -- so no tonic. The salve, however… if it could ease some of the soreness, he would jump on the occasion, even if he didn’t like going anywhere near Counterstep since the ‘cap incident’. Damned thing was the first thing he’d take care of as soon as they were back on Cybertron…

Suddenly, Drewdrop squealed in happiness and Sentinel saw her dig into her bowl, only to show everyone the coin she just had discovered in the individual bowl of Argon-Pears compote she had just chosen from a tray. The Prime glimpsed the glyph engraved on both side, ‘wealth’, before everyone started to applause at the new discovery.

“Well done, Dewdrop,” Stillbarrel called out to his Endura, obviously happy. Dewdrop beamed at him and their sparklings.

“Well done, exactly,” commented Shock in a low voice. “They do like riches, these two.”

“Nothing wrong with that, I’d say,” Sentinel let slip casually. Sentinel himself loved fine stuffs.

“Hmm, no, you’re right, nothing wrong with it,” Shock allowed. “But Dewdrop was always one to like pretty things, and Stillbarrel love even more the expensive ones. One had to wonder how they pay for some of the things they bought over the vorns…”

“You know Stillbarrel inherited from his Sire SlyStill,” Pollen noted. “They sold his old farm for a good price -- which is sad, really, they could have kept it as a dowry for one of their daughters -- and lived on the money ever since.”

“Yes, but don’t you think the money should have run dry by now?” Shock noted. “I don’t think any of the money I inherited from my Grand-Carrier lastest so long…”

“Perhaps, but you had to entirely renew Glimmer Pond’s barns, no? Whereas I don’t think Stillbarrel and Dewdrop had to use whatever money they had for Foggy Bottom’s buildings.”

“Hmm… yes, probably,” Shock allowed, though he still looked unsure. “And you Sentinel, what do you think?”

Sentinel shrugged, not really caring either way. He was too busy thinking about the trinket.

So far, it was the sixth discovered, after ‘love’ (found by Clunk, Tidalwave and Moonshift’s creation, who had blushed as he watched his intended Cisel), ‘luck’ (by one of the creations of Auger and Mistcover, Firn, who had beamed and proudly told them that with the token on his side, there was no way he couldn’t ace the next test Pastor Acrux gave them, to the amusement of all the adults present. Even Sentinel’s lips had lifted for a few kliks), ‘prosperity’ (found by Safepath, to the delight of his Conjunx, Mayor Levitacus, who seemed quite proud) and ‘health’ (which, after its discovery by Apis, had seemed to greatly reassure her Conjunx; apparently, she was a bit under the weather since she had given birth to Seedleaf).

From what the Prime had gathered, each coins was supposed to show the one person who found it what he should expect in the year. ‘Luck’ indicated a very good stellar cycle for someone, for example, with good harvests. ‘Love’ was very prized by young couples or mechlings wanting to find a fiancé. ‘Prosperity’ indicated abundance in the house, the continuation of good fortune. There were also tokens with glyphs for ‘Bonding’, which could indicate a marriage, or simply an official engagement; Sentinel wondered what happened when it was sparklings who found it.

“No risk,” Rennet smiled when he said it aloud. “Usually, the more serious ones are hidden in dishes not shared or not appropriate for sparklings. Why, there is an old story of how Tidalwave and Moonshift found the ‘Bonding’ token the stellar cycle they married; just at the end of the Great War, they were drinking high grade energon taken from a jug, like everyone, and suddenly, Moonshift found it at the bottom as he finished his cube and tried for a refill!”

“That… seems like a sensitive precaution,” Sentinel allowed as he watched his cube of oil warily, wondering if he wasn’t going to have a nasty surprise. Which was stupid, since he was already Bonded. “Are you using the same token at every Festival?”

“Yes and no. Some tokens, who are used to symbolise special events, can very well not be used for some cycles,” Pollen said as he shifted his now awake sparkling in his arms, the front of his dress opened and his chestplates open to let the newspark free access to the energon pouches on his torso, to Sentinel’s uneasiness. “My brother Anther once told me that, in the village he installed in, the ‘Bonding’ token hadn’t been used for a year because all the adults were already Bonded, and the younger generation was still too young for such a thing to happen.”

“So whatever these tokens mean doesn’t always happen?” Sentinel asked as he took a slice of a large Proto-peaches cake he had eyed for a while.

“Oh, but it does!” Shock insisted. “See my Canker, for example. He was a rather sickly thing ever since he emerged. He saw Counterstep almost every orbital cycles, because he either felt unwell or managed to injure himself. Well, at the NewDawn Festival four stellar cycles ago, he found the ‘Health’ coin and, believe it or not, he spend the whole next stellar cycle without so much as a cough from the dirt of the road,” he beamed, obviously happy. “Of course, the moment we entered the next stellar cycles, the effect stopped, and he fell back in rather tedious health, but the token did work.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t, uh, merely a coincidence?” Sentinel asked, feeling dubious about the little ‘miracle’ that had Shock so pleased. He had met Canker, once; the youngling was a rather conniving little things, and he certainly wasn’t the frankest kid in town. Who was to say he hadn’t lied about some of his sicknesses and only stopped for a while? As for the rest… if they found the tokens, he supposed the people felt obligated in following what they ‘predicted’; so the ones who found the ‘Bonding’ coin thought it was the right time to Bond, the one who found ‘Wealth’ worked harder in order to get money,... It was all very subjective, he decided.

“Of course not,” Sterling insisted. “You want another example? When I was just a youngling, and Levitacus wasn’t yet Mayor or even that rich, he found the ‘Wealth’ coin. In over a stellar cycle, he had managed to gather twice as many credits as all the other farmers in town put together, and he was investing most of it in modernizing the town and repairing the Temple, before working on Bright Crystals and his family.”

Sentinel hummed. “Well, it was lucky of him, but nothing proves that…”

“What about that Femme everyone thought was barren in Primus’ Gift?” Pollen prompted, making Sentinel still suddenly. “I mean, her and her Conjunx were Bonded for three thousand vorns, and they hadn’t managed to get a single sparkling. The medics they consulted had pretty much confirmed she wasn’t able to get a sparkling to term due to a medical issue. They had adopted two little ones to take care of, but sadly, they had been unable to kindle one of their own.” There were sighs from everyone who heard Pollen, who just held his sparkling closer to him. Sentinel didn’t comment at their attitude; in a society which prided itself so much about the number of sparklings they produced, to be unable to even have a single one was horrifying. Not for him, but still… he couldn’t say that to their face. “Well, on a NewDawn Festival, suddenly, she found the ‘Carrying’ token!” Sentinel’s optics widened. “And, believe it or not, by the end of the stellar cycle, she was heavy with sparklings, and she managed to get twins!”

“That… that’s just…” Sentinel managed to get out, trying to defend the fact it was yet again another coincidence.

“That was no coincidence,” Shock insisted. “The medics who checked on her confirmed she was still suffering from the same ailment which had stopped her from carrying before, but strangely, it didn’t affect the conception or the carrying process. It was Primus’ will that she managed to birth her little ones.”

Sentinel took a deep breath, his vents working hard to cool down as his mind overworked. Medical miracle, it just had to be. Such things happened frequently on Cybertron. Well, not frequently, but they happened, like for that Femme, Arcee, who everyone had thought a lost cause. Granted, it was because of Decepticon she was better now, but it had been a medical miracle of sort. It had nothing to do with the will of a godly being who they venerated.

With that, he bite into the Proto-peaches cake’s slice he had let in his plate so far, only for his optics to widen as his teeth encountered something unnaturally hard in the otherwise soft texture of the cake. Oh Primus… he thought as he put the cake out of his mouth and saw the small coin nestled in the slice. With trembling fingers, he started to free it.

It was probably nothing. There were other tokens who hadn’t been found yet, like ‘charity’ -- whatever purpose it served -- or ‘peace’. There was little chance it actually was...

‘Carrying’.

In a large, glittering glyph inscribed on the two sides of the pale grey coin. Sentinel stared at it in silence, mouth slightly agape as his CPU tried to deal with the information. Next to him, he heard mechs squeal, mostly Enduras, as they realized what he had just found.

“Oh my, oh my! Everyone, just look at what Sentinel has found!”

“Dear Primus! Congratulation Sentinel!”

“I’m so happy for you!”

“Do you already have any idea of how you’re going to call your first one?”

“Do you think you’ll be having Twins or more?”

More? The very word made Sentinel shudder and allowed him out of his frozen stupefaction. His fist tightened by reflex around the coin as he raised his face, only to directly stare into Bulkhead’s optics -- an impressive feast, he mused, since his Conjunx was several seats away from him, as they had been dragged off by different people who wanted to enjoy their company. The green mech was now staring at him with wide optics and a slowly growing smile that immediately put Sentinel on edge. What did the oaf imagine, that Sentinel was gently going to let him knock him up?! No way!

That… that token thing was just a… a subjective helper to some people, not a definite proof of Primus’ powers and will! There was no way Sentinel ended up carrying, especially not Bulkhead’s sparkling! Frag, he needed to find a way to stop himself from getting knocked up! No interfacing!... No, too hard, given how much they fragged anyway. Contraceptives? Contraceptives were good!... But they were unlawful here, and he doubted that any try to ask for some would be well received. Okay, no worry; Blurr had promised he would find a way to supply him with more contraceptives when he’d next come by… in almost two orbital cycles! Oh slag, a lot could happen in two orbital cycles! But not… he had to keep calm. It took longer than two orbital cycles to get knocked up, especially for their species. There, deep breaths! It doesn’t prove anything! It’s just a stupid coin!

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from praying with fervor.

_‘Please don’t do this to me, Primus! Don’t you dare try and do that to me!’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background infos:**
> 
>  
> 
> • LastNight Festival: Couples gather in front of the Temple as the sun sets on the last day of the year. Priests light thirteen fires, symbolizing the thirteen remaining hours ‘til the end of the night and the dawn of the first day of the year. They put one out each passing hour as a countdown. As they do, couples start fragging and share drinks and snacks between two make out sessions. As each fire is put out, the luminosity decreases, until everyone is in the dark; it’s the moment, during their last joining, where the couples share Sparks, finishing the year in the most intimate way possible.
> 
> • NewDawn Meal: Special festival on the ‘first day of the new year’, where the priests prepare a meal for all townfolks with crystals having grown on the temple’s ground. A number of tokens are hidden away in a number of dishes, and tradition wants that each one grant a different kind of fortune (one for money, one for good harvest,...). The most prized one is rumored to announce the person who get it will carry in the year.
> 
> • About Bachelors and Widowers on Festivals: Being single doesn’t stop a farmer to participate in a Harvest Festival, or any Festival where interfacing play a part. However, instead of a mate, he’ll spend the time with a Sister or a Pastor, who’ll stand as a temporary spouse. Most single mechs and femmes take on the role of Conjunx in those matters, as those who’d like to be Enduras would rather keep themselves ‘pure’ for their possible mate.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentinel and Bulkhead stumble across the secret of some of Primus' Blessing residents...

A whole orbital cycle.

It had taken Sentinel that long to finally get a glimpse of the mysterious ‘ghost’ signalled by Primus’ Blessing’s sparklings, and without any help coming from Bulkhead, at that! The Prime felt that it could have been much faster had the other Autobot accepted to help, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been so. The oaf had argued he was hardly discreet and couldn’t help in recon and stealth missions, and Sentinel had to grudgingly admit it was a legitimate claim. Bulkhead was hardly discreet and easy to hide, wherever had was faster and agile.

So, a whole orbital cycle. It had been a damn long one, he silently groused as he surveilled the progression of the mech draped in a silvery cloak from his shelter in a crystal tree’s dense foliage. Optics magnified to their maximum and in infrared spectrum, he watched as the ‘ghost’ walked between two rows of Metallo-Maize. Once upon a time, Bulkhead had told him that using Wire-Wheat and Metallo-Maizes fields were a good way to circulate without being seen; like each time he was right, it somewhat pained Sentinel to admit the oaf had known what he had been talking about.

It had taken some time to the Prime before he started surveilling the fields. Before that, he had been focused on the forest, since it was where the sparklings pretended to have seen the ‘ghost’. But, thinking back, what they saw in the woods was most likely Clearway, or even Churn. So that meant the intruder he was seeking out was most likely otherwhere. For a time, he had tried to watch over Lacey Lawn and Fruitful Orchard, since they were the ones where farmers complained of disappeared energon-fruits. But he saw nothing out of the ordinary in the decacycle he surveilled the two farms.

Then it had come to him to just check over the maps Bulkhead and him had drawn to try and guess where someone had the most chances to try and met with someone in a secretive way. Shady Acres was out ever since they had come, but as an empty property, it could have been a meeting point earlier. Restful Hollow, with its burned house and barns, was interesting, but the fields around were bare, and provided no cover to anyone trying to walk to the house while hiding. There were a few other empty properties in town, such as Pleasant Pasture, Great Grange and Blissful Patch. Oh, and Flowering Moor, the large farmhouse Clearway hoped to buy for Churn, too.

It had surprised Sentinel to realize there were actually so many empty farms in town, until he had dug a little in the matter during an Endura’s reunion. The families who had owned them had left to start new business on the recently colonised Agri IV, which offered lot of opportunities, or had fallen on hard times and had had to leave Primus’ Blessing after selling their properties to the Bank, who had yet to find buyers. Well, aside of Blissful Patch… kinda. Most of the fields had actually been sold aside of the house proper, and had since been assimilated by Bright Crystals, Mayor Levitacus’ property. What was left was so small it didn’t hold much appeal to potential new farmers, though Rennet had pointed out that it could still make a pretty good farm for a Doctor, a Veterinary Physician or a Schoolmaster, given they did less farming than anyone else. Actually, Blissful Patch was supposed to be the house of any Schoolmaster they could get. It has just fallen out of use after the departure of the last one, who hadn't been replaced.

Apparently, there were hopes that the village would keep growing in the following vorns. Sentinel wished them luck.

Anyway, he had watched the empty properties for a while, but found nothing having to do with Decepticons. Great Grange apparently served as a meeting ground for sparklings’ playdates, without the creators knowing, of course. The place wasn’t considered safe, since the house was old and in dire need of renovations. Aside of that, nothing suspect. Once again, the empty fields offered no protection and no discretion for a secret meeting.

Then it struck Sentinel that spy could directly meet in the farmhouses or in the fields where the mechanicrops were high enough to hide them from people walking on the road.

For a moment, he had also considered Foggy Bottom, Stillbarrel and Dewdrop’s farm, as a possible meeting point, since the house was fairly close to the woods and one could just slip out of the house and reach the cover of the crystal trees without being seen. But given just how much time the family spend outside around their farm, it was dubious anything could have escaped their notice. And well, Sentinel didn’t think they were spies. It was pretty hard to see the little, squealing Dewdrop as anything but the housewife she was, or Stillbarrel as anything but the working farmer who was a tad disappointed in his offsprings. Not that he ever said so, but apparently, the other Enduras thought he wasn’t exactly happy to have only daughters and a son who was more like his Carrier than his Sire.

So, he crossed out Foggy Bottom and a couple more of properties, before concentrating on the ones where the mechanicrops were growing so high the fields were becoming almost like labyrinths. And finally, after all that time, there he was, so close to his goals! He had spotted the infamous ‘ghost’ once, and after one more decacyle of nightly watch, he was seeing him anew and was ready to unmask him! Hopefully, if he found out where the spy was heading tonight, then perhaps they could have the whole thing ended under a decacycle and he’d been able to head back to Cybertron before anything worse happened. Damn token; it still spooked him to think about it…

As he observed the silhouette making his way through the rows of Metallo-Maized which were easily a head taller than him, Sentinel mused that he could understand why the sparklings who had got a glimpse of him.

The night was quite cold and misty, the moon was barely visible behind clouds, the cape had a hood which hide its owner’s face, and the silvery color was very… special. It seemed sometimes the mech was becoming transparent. Had Sentinel not been more familiar with camouflage paints and cybernetic fibers, he might have been, well… spooked like the sparklings had been. He did, however, know better.

Cybernetic fibers were specials, a discovery from the Sciences Minister which wasn’t very popular among the general population but very much in use in the Elite Guard and among the Autotroopers. They could serve, well used, to allow a bot to camouflage himself, turning him, well, not invisible like the Noble Mirage was rumored to be able to, but allowing him to discreetly become part of the decor. Autotroopers on surveillance mission liked to use capes like this one -- one of the few clothing articles available on Cybertron.

If he had been a more suspicious bot, he would have thought the cloak the silhouette was wearing was Decepticon technology. However, from conversations with Bulkhead, he had learned cybernetic fibers were used in cloaks made for hunters on the agricultural planets. Although energon farmers seldom consumed the flesh of mechanimals, the threat large groups of Wild IronBoars or CyberWolves in the wilder parts of the planetoids was just too high. Hunter groups usually formed and maintained watch over nights and went on culling them when it was decided they were too numerous and dangerous to still be allowed to live.

Curiously, Sentinel approved. It was the sensitive thing to do.

But it also didn’t help him reduce the number of suspects. Almost everyone in town had similar cloaks, just in case they would be asked to help.

So whoever Sentinel was observing could be anyone, really, thought he could discard already Tidalwave or Brimstone; the two tallest town residents were just too… well, too tall to be the mech he was watching. And it couldn’t be a femme either, since most of the Femmes in town had the classical features of the Autobot ones -- aside of Sister Ara, who was bulkier and stockier, but still graceful and petite enough to not be taken as anything but a Femme.

So who? He wondered. Who was coming at Salt Flat, in the middle of the night cycle, at irregular patterns and by taking precautions to not been seen?

Salt Flat… Sentinel wondered how it could have escaped him before. Salt Flat was Claymate’s farm. Claymate, the single unBonded mech in town. The solitary mech who barely made an appearance at Festival and in the market, who was gruff thought polite and with who Sentinel and Bulkhead mustn’t have exchanged more than ten sentences? Well, Sentinel hadn’t; Bulkhead apparently had, since he had mentioned the mech had come to help him trim a couple of crystal trees he hoped to be able to save and make them produce energon-fruits again.

Anyway, the Prime felt ready to hit himself for not having realized sooner that, if there was a suspicious mech in town, then Claymate was him. Frag, a mech still not Bonded in such a small community, it was really unusual! It was also the perfect meeting point; one could go to his farm at night without raising much suspicion if he was careful not to let himself see. No spouse and no sparklings who could get curious or in the way. As he received almost no visit, he could hide anything in that house of his. Truly, the perfect place for illicit activities!

As the cloaked mech reached the door and knocked, Sentinel started to come down from the tree -- which was harder than expected, for his dress was impeding his moves. Careful, half crouching behind the Metallo-maizes rows, he advanced toward the house, Spark beating like crazy. Now, he wouldn’t barge in, not tonight. He would only try to steal a look inside, just to discover who was here and who he’d need to corner later on. Then he could come back with Bulkhead before the end of the night, and arrest Claymate, and then the other spy. From there, they could lead them to the Decepticons hiding on the planet, they could get them, call in Cybertron’s High Command so they could pick up the prisoners and finally get back home, whereas Sentinel would be able to get back to a real job! No more gossiping on everybody and their neighbors’ interface life! No more ridiculous dresses and kinky panties! No more…

Well, he would still have Bulkhead, obviously, since they were legally Bonded according to the Laws, but Sentinel guessed he could use it to his advantage somehow to gain back his reputation and popularity. Then he could try and get the oaf sent back on Space Bridge’s duties and not see him for, oh, a couple of millenia.

Moving precautiously as to not make the wooden planks of the stairs leading to Salt Flat’s veranda crack under his pedes, vents working at their minimum capacity in order to not give away his position, Sentinel crept closer, down on his hands and knees, and carefully lifted his head as to get a quick look inside. He didn’t know the layout of the house but it was… of… little… importance…

He blinked, blushed, and ducked his head back under. Was that…? He risked a second look, just to be sure his CPU wasn’t playing tricks on him, but he saw the very same things. And he became very aware of the noises.

Well… that was unexpected, he thought as he backed away.

*****************************

“Oh, Claymate!” Bulkhead called out as he approached Salt Flat, waving at the other energon farmer. The large ochre mech paused in the milking of his ChronoCows and threw a look at the coming Autobot over his shoulders.

“Hello Bulkhead,” he acknowledged as he finished milking the last mechanimal. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Bulkhead paused at the edge of the pasture and really looked at Claymate, as if it was the first time he was seeing him. And in a way, it was. When Sentinel had come back to Shady Acres last night, disturbed, and told him exactly what he had seen… Well, it had been a nasty shock for Bulkhead too. Who would have thought Claymate…?

“I have… come across certains informations recently,” he started carefully as Claymate versed the content of his bucket in a large cistern he was probably going to drag to the farm itself with his altmode.

“Oh?” Claymate inquired politely, not trying to encourage the conversation. Bulkhead knew he generally was a private mech, and not one for long talks, but on the whole, he was a very decent mech. Or so he had thought. Before Sentinel’s report. And he didn’t doubt the Prime for a single moment; it had been obvious the Prime was still reeling from having followed yet another false lead.

“Yes,” Bulkhead answered. “Informations about Tiller --” Claymate stilled “ -- and about you too,” he finished, face blank as Claymate stayed perfectly immobile. After a while, the other farmer sagged.

“I see,” he said very quietly before turning toward Bulkhead. “And what do you intend to do with this...information?” he questioned in a soft tone. His face had become blank too.

Bulkhead shuffled nervously. “I don’t know,” he finally confessed. It was probably what was bothering him the most; he didn’t know how to react to the news and what to do about it. After all, it wasn’t everyday you found out one of your neighbors cheated on his Conjunx with another farmer.

Claymate looked at him for a moment before sighing. “I’d propose you to come inside for a drink, but I think anything intoxicating is the last thing any of us need right now, so sorry I don’t offer. Let’s stop with the chit-chat and cut down to the core of the matter. You know about Tiller and I; do you intend to denounce us?”

“Yes. No. I… I dunno,” Bulkhead allowed, sagging. “I mean… frag it, Claymate, he’s Bonded! He has a family, sparklings to take care of, a Conjunx who obviously love him dearly! You shouldn’t…!”

“Yes, he is Bonded,” Claymate acknowledged. “Yes, he has several sparklings that he loves dearly -- and there’s a good chance Flashlight, the fourth one, is actually mine.” Bulkhead choked as his optics bulged comically. Claymate had a thin smile. “It happens to be his favorite among his offsprings. And yes, he has a Conjunx who loves him… but whose love is as stiffening as his desire for Tiller to be a perfect Endura,” he finished bitterly. “Honestly, you think I’m the only at fault here? That I’m the one who lead a poor innocent astray?”

Bulkhead bit his lips. “... I don’t know, Claymate. I don’t know. I just know that what you’re doing is wrong. He’s Bonded, he had sworn before Primus that…”

“Yes he did,” Claymate cut him. “And there are cycles were he regret it dearly, for he doesn’t feel happy with Quarterstaff. Not nearly as much as he had hoped,” he sighed. “You must understand… did you ever really speak with him? Heard him talk about what a Endura’s proper role is?”

“... he’s very old fashioned,” Bulkhead allowed, thinking about some of the things he had noticed about the couple. Tiller’s dresses and sleeves were generally longer than everyone else, he wore capes and cloaks more often too, hardly said a word when other Conjunx were presents and from Sentinel’s own account, didn’t speak much either when Enduras reunited, though he worked fast. Even in the fields, he worked hard and long. Oh, all Enduras did, but there always was a reserve about Tiller… Older mechs, in the previous generations, often treated their Enduras like that, more possession than Bonded, but it had stopped long ago. Or at least, in about every communities Bulkhead knew of. Then again, you still had people who longed to go back to the ‘old traditions’, and perhaps Quarterstaff was one of them. “But Quarterstaff is a good mech,” he insisted.

“Did I ever said he wasn’t? Seriously, I know he has a good spark. But he’s not the one Tiller should have Bonded to, not when Tiller himself was a dreamer, a wilder spark than the perfect, quiet Endura Quarterstaff hoped for,” Claymate sighed.

“... You’ve known him since long?” Bulkhead asked.

“Who? Quarterstaff or Tiller?” Claymate asked with a joyless smile. “I’ve know both since sparklinghood. We were kindled and raised here, just like Levitacus, Mistcover, Apis, Stillbarrel, Smokefall and Lancer. We were pretty much inseparable as sparklings and younglings. Most of them haven’t changed that much growing up,” he said as he took a cy-gar out of subspace, surprising Bulkhead. Aside of Mayor Levitacus, he didn’t think anyone on town smoked.

“Tiller was always special to me,” he said quietly. “I always felt drawn to him. He was cute, back then, open, friendly, helpful… he was the mech I had hoped to Bond someday. The only one I had ever considered. I even told him as much, and he answered in kind. Or at least, he said he loved me too,” he sighed.

“Why didn’t you, then? Get Bonded? Why did he Bond with Quarterstaff in the end?” Bulkhead asked, curious.

“Why did you Bond with Sentinel?” Claymate answered simply, startling Bulkhead. “I’ve got optics to see, you know. The Enduras and the rest might just chalk that on the fact he’s new here, and not exactly happy at leaving Cybertron -- which I think is true -- but there’s more to that to explain his unpleasantness, no? Because yes, he can be downright unpleasant, don’t think I haven’t noticed. That doesn’t mean he isn’t a good mech; if he wasn’t, I doubt you’d have accepted to Bond him anyway. But he’s not the perfect sweetspark, is he?”

“... He has his moments,” Bulkhead allowed, mind spinning.

Claymate nodded. “I’m sure he has. Why I didn’t Bond with Tiller is simple. When we reached a proper age for courtship… I wasn’t in Primus’ Blessing anymore. See, my Creators weren’t from here to begin with, but from another town on the other side of the planet. My Grand-Sire had a very large property he was working on with a couple of his other offsprings, and they were wealthy enough. Then there was an accident; severe drought for more than two orbital cycles which ended flooding the whole town and did lot of damages as well as several injured and dead. Some of my uncles and aunts among them.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” Bulkhead allowed.

Claymate shrugged. “I don’t see why; not your fault. Anyway, when they heard the news, my Creators decided to leave Primus’ Blessing and go help my Grand-Sire, try to make the farm flourish again. And since I was still a minor, I was forced to go with them. I told myself: ‘okay, I’ll get back the moment I’m officially an adult mech’, and so I stopped resisting when they dragged me along. I told goodbye to Tiller and promised him I’d come by soon.”

“... but your absence ended up being longer than planned, I take?” Bulkhead asked quietly.

“Damn right,” Claymate nodded. “There was just so much to do to save the farm from total disaster. With the loss of his creations, my Grand-Sire and his Endura were in shock, unable to help much. Flood had damaged the fields so much some couldn’t be used for almost a whole stellar cycles. Mechanimals fell sick. There were always money troubles. I longed to return to Tiller. I thought, perhaps we could Bond and come live with my Grand-Sire for a while, then I’ll be able to offer him a proper farm for just the two of us later. But I couldn’t. There was hardly a moment to spare for idle thoughts. And when I was angry, when I wanted to just leave, the rest of the family looked at me, and they were silently begging me to stay and continue helping.” He sighed. “You don’t drop your family when they’re in trouble. It isn’t done.”

Bulkhead nodded in acknowledgement. No, no matter of much you might dislike someone, you didn’t let him face trouble alone, especially if you were related.

“Anyway,” Claymate pursued, “by the time I got back to Primus’ Blessing, Tiller was already Bonded to Quarterstaff and had had their first sparkling. It hurt, it hurt in a way you can’t imagine,” he said quietly. “I don’t hate Tiller for that. We were young, I wasn’t coming back and hadn’t been able to send news due to a failure in the post office system, and Quarterstaff had asked to court him, and Tiller… well, Tiller wanted to be loved and to become a Creator. Quarterstaff was always charming, and he would make a good Sire, or so everyone had said to him. Better Bond with him than to wait endlessly for a mech who wasn’t coming back.” He smiled mirthlessly. “Guess they had a nasty shock when I did just that, a few vorns later, once I had enough money to make the trip. And a nasty shock for me to see Tiller at the arm of someone else. To his defence, Quarterstaff was sad for me too, but eh, him too had been in love with Tiller for a long time, and I was a rival.”

Bulkhead shuttered his optics. It was sad, really. “So… you resumed your courtship of Tiller despite the fact he was already Bonded as soon as you came back.”

Claymate gave him a flat look. “What sort of mech do you take me for? No, I didn’t. Tiller was taken, and as much as it hurt, I told myself it was over. Didn’t Bond because nobody else ever interested me like that, and I never thought I’d be anything but a celibate farmer. I would never even had tried to find a casual lover, had Tiller not be the one who threw himself in my arm one night Quarterstaff was out of town for business. He goes to buy his grains rather far away, so he’s absent every few decacycles,” he explained.

“So in the end, it’s Tiller who…? But why? Is he so unhappy with his life?”

Claymate sighed. “Now, that’s an awkward question. If you asked him, he’d say he’s happy, and on the whole, he is. Quarterstaff gave him a good house, he’s a good Conjunx, even if he’s too old fashioned, and Tiller just loves his sparklings dearly. But Tiller… I told you he’s a dreamer. His idea of love and passion, of happiness… they don’t really match what his life has shaped to be like. Quarterstaff is too stifling for him, without even trying to. To be happy, Tiller think he needs something more… something he thinks he would have had with me, had he waited longer for my return. Something he thinks he can only find in my arms.”

“And do you think like him?” Bulkhead asked quietly.

Claymate paused, thoughtful. “Hard to say. I love him, Bulkhead, and I want him to be happy. If the only way for him to have that smile… that smile he never has with Quarterstaff… if the only way to see him shine from the inside if for me to hold him in my arms and make him love, then… yes, I’m ready to believe anything he believes in.”

His cy-gar was finished and he crushed the remains under his pede as Bulkhead thought about the whole matter. “So? Do you plan to denounce us?”

“... I don’t approve of what you’re doing,” Bulkhead finally said. “When you Bond, it’s a commitment for life to the same person. However…” he paused. “I don’t think telling others of whatever is happening between you and Tiller is in my right.”

Claymate nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice.

Bulkhead just looked at him for a moment longer and turned heels, exiting Salt Flat’s pastures without another word. His mind kept going through the conversation. Would Sentinel feel like that someday? He hoped not, for Bulkhead didn’t think he’d be able to share his Endura with anyone else. Sentinel was his Bonded, his alone. Perhaps he should work on way to make him happier, so he would never be tempted to go look somewhere else for pleasure and comfort?

… Ok, perhaps he was starting to get a bit possessive here. Sighing, he took the road back to Shady Acres, thinking about a love triangle which would only end up hurting someone in the end…


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old resident comes back to town, setting in motion an event Sentinel could have lived without...

“So you are the lovely Sentinel Shimmersun told me so much about in his letters? I’m charmed to finally meet you,” the newcomer said, bowing while taking Sentinel’s hand and kissing it before taking a step back, obviously respectful and nodding at Bulkhead with a pleasing smile. “Congratulations on your Bonding. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the event.”

Bulkhead, his arms around Sentinel’s waist in a rather possessive way that put Sentinel ill at ease, nodded. “Thank you for your kind words, Goodmech Smokefall. I’m most happy to finally meet you too.” He nuzzled his face against Sentinel’s neck.

“You have a most beautiful Endura,” Smokefall commented as he stole another look at Sentinel. “Primus must have guided your steps when he let you meet.”

“I’m certain he did,” Bulkhead answered easily. “Don’t you think so too, Sentinel?”

Sentinel just smiled thinly, refusing to comment as he watched Yoke, Safepath, Apis, Roller, Dewdrop, Mistcover, Shock, Moonshift, Scythe and Furrow bring up the goodies and treats their Conjunx would fuel with during the, uh, ‘meeting’. About everybody in the village was here -- except the priests, Claymate and Threasher, of course -- for the ‘celebrations’ of Smokefall’s safe return. Understand, a large Conjunx/Endura meeting where Sentinel was going to get fragged in public. Again.

He tried to focus on something else. Like, the new mech in town’s appearance.

So that was Smokefall, the at long last returned Conjunx of Shimmersun? Funny, he had expected someone… more impressing. Not that Smokefall wasn’t impressive already; the red and grey mech was almost a head taller than Sentinel, with twin rotating cannons looming over his shoulders. But, despite his size and what seemed to be powerful weapons, he had something about him that almost screamed ‘harmless’ in a very, very loud voice.

That said, the cannons were really making him nervous…

“Modified water and foam cannons, perfectly harmless… well, except for fires,” Smokefall said as he noticed his look, grinning. “I went through a whole altmode change to get them installed, with added modifications. I fear my sweet Shimmersun hadn’t even recognized me at first,” he joked, his Endura lightly cuffing him over the helm with a laugh of his own.

“Silly mech! I would have recognized you anywhere, whatever you may look like,” Shimmersun said fondly as they kissed, eliciting soft coos from the mechs surrounding them.

Sentinel lost some interest as people chatted happily, crowing around the newly arrived mech. Smokefall was, for all intents and purposes, perfectly harmless. Sentinel had made a background check on him, and it had come back clean. Dozens of witness could confirm the large mech had indeed followed an accelerated formation for professional firefighting over several orbital cycles, and now… well, he was recognized as a member of the Firefighters Guild of Agri III. Mayor Levitacus seemed very entranced by this.

Bulkhead lead him to a comfortable couch in which the oaf installed himself while helping Sentinel get down on his knees, face at the level of his panel. The Prime took a few deep breath to calm himself. It wasn’t the first time -- nor the last, sadly -- he did that. So long it didn’t last until the evening, he could do this and not bitch too much about it later on. As everybody settled down, Bulkhead gently patted his helm, and the Prime surprised himself in leaning into the touch. Frag, there was something seriously wrong with him, if he really was starting to long for Bulkhead’s touch!

The oaf let his panel slide aside and his spike rose proudly, and Sentinel started to ‘work’. All around him, he heard to tell-tales sounds of suctions and the pleasured sounds of mechs getting off while being sucked. And, of course, the small talks the Conjunx entertained while they encouraged their Enduras in taking them deeper down their intakes. Sentinel’s glossa lazily rolled around Bulkhead’s length as he tried to listen to what was being said.

“... so glad you managed to come back so soon! Shimmersun said you’d be away for still a few more orbital cycles!”

“Yes, it was planned that way,” Smokefall acknowledged, “for I had planned to go and send some time with my Creators and siblings before coming back. However, after a bit of talk with Fireclay, he insisted that I’d head home as soon as possible, for my family must have missed me tremendously. And I must admit,” he said with a groan, “that my lovely Endura was indeed missing me just as much as I missed him. I don’t think we left the berth from the moment I came back until this morning. Shimmersun was very intent on riding my spike until I passed out, and actually, he did,” he said teasingly.

There were a couple of chuckles and whistles that Sentinel felt blushing at, even if he wasn’t the one targeted. That was something he would never get used to, he swore. The comments were hardly better.

“That said, how is Fireclay? Does he plan to come back soon?” came the voice of Mayor Levitacus. Sentinel could see him from the corner of his optics; Yoke was sucking on his spike was Safepath was sitting on his lap, kissing him everywhere while the Mayor had a hand slide under his skirt, servos probably teasing his port, if one had to judge by Safepath’s pants and soft moans.

Smokefall sighed. “As much as he’d like… I’m afraid it will take even longer than we thought originally,” he admitted with sadness. There were mutterings of sadness, a buzz of protests that Smokefall tried to appease. Sentinel, while listening distractedly, tried to not take too much of Bulkhead’s spike in his mouth yet; he wasn’t very kind of the idea of getting bounced on the oaf’s spike again. Blowjobs were safer; blowjobs didn’t make him risk to get sparked. Bulkhead, for his part, kept patting his helm in a satisfied manner.

“Hear me out, please. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to come. Honestly, he misses the place, and so do his Endura and sparklings. I mean, Fireclay was born and grew up here, just like I did! But…” he hesitated. “The price for repairing the house and the barn and the henhouse is sadly just too much for him at the moment.”

There were dissatisfied hums. “Isn’t your family helping him? I thought you said the clan would take care of him?” asked Quarterstaff while he maintained Tiller’s head firmly between his legs.

“They do try,” Smokefall assured. “About every member of the family who had money to spare sent him some: our two brothers and two sisters, our aunts and uncles and cousins -- even the one who chose to leave for Cybertron and became an accountant! Some of their sparklings even ended their savings, saying Fireclay had more need for the money than them,” he explained. There were soft coos of approval, and comments on the ‘cuteness’ of the young ones. “Honestly, I don’t think we ever received so much support -- even my Grand-Sire’s siblings, who barely ever seen before, lend a hand. However…” he paused and his shoulders sagged.

“Did you hear about the new ‘buildings safety’ regulations?” There were nods. Sentinel listened with a bit more interest as he continued to suck Bulkhead’s spike quietly. “I mean, what you need to pay to make a new construction fit them is just… Fireclay was given an estimation for all the work they’ll be to do, from razing down the damaged house and barns -- and yes, there’s no way to save what is left, or it would be even more expensive -- to the plumbing, the heat system, the walls, the basement he’d like to do,... It’s already cost almost as much as what the family has gathered so far. And after that, he’d need to buy new seeds, new animals, new tools! He needs to feed his family and buy furnitures and fabrics, and, and…” The large mech shook his head, obviously feeling defeated. “Let’s just say that it’ll be a while before he gather enough to pay for everything.”

“Can’t the planer Council help?” Mayor Levitacus asked, frowning as he made his Enduras pause in their efforts to please him. “I mean, they have funds dedicated to cases like that, to help struggling farmers to fall back on their feet.”

“We tried,” Smokefall sighed, “but Fireclay won’t receive anything from them until experts come to examine the ruins. And it can take vorns before they do.”

There were angry mutterings and soft curses at the administration. It reminded Sentinel fondly of Cybertron; how good to see that some things remained the same, no matter where in the Commonwealth you were. He hummed, causing vibrations that made Bulkhead overload with a pleased groan, the oaf’s large hands holding his head steady as Sentinel tried to swallow and not choke on the rush of transfluid suddenly filling his mouth. The taste it left on his glossa was… not bad over all, he reflected as he was helped to rise and sit in Bulkhead’s laps, his spike still hard and ready to stuff him.

“Is there anything we could do?” asked Steamroller, obviously in deep sympathy over the ordeal as Sentinel was lifted and made to straddle Bulkhead’s spike with a moan as it started to slid inside him. With a roll of his hips, he tried to impale himself faster, only for Bulkhead to stop him.

“Ah, ah, slowly, Sentinel,” he chided him, sounding amused. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“You have a very fine Endura, Goodmech Bulkhead,” Smokefall noted with a smile as he helped Shimmersun to straddle him. “It is good to see him being so focused on his duties, despite… well, I’ve heard he’s from Cybertron?”

“Indeed he is, Goodmech Smokefall,” Bulkhead nodded as he let Sentinel sink down deeper on his spike. “But Sentinel is doing his very best to become a good farmer and a good mate, and I thank Primus every solar cycle for having given me such a good, pleasing mate.”

Sentinel mewled, cheeks flushed. Frag, he hated it when Bulkhead started to become all ‘proud’ of him! Especially when said pride was all about his readiness to interface!

“May I… ah, yes Love, deeper! Uuuhhh… May I… have a word?” Nightglow asked as Farrier made him bounce on his spike. Everybody turned toward him, a bit puzzled and some, like Quarterstaff, frowning. Sentinel grabbed Bulkhead’s shoulders to brace himself as he turned his head to look at the carrying mech in surprise. Enduras seldom spoke when they were pleasing their Conjunx. Their duty was first and foremost to please them, not to chit-chat while they spoke of more 'serious' matters.

Nightglow made Farrier pause for a moment. “I was… I was thinking… that money Fireclay needs so much… that’s for… for paying workers, right?”

Smokefall nodded slowly. “Part of it, yes. Most will go to the materials, but a part is to pay the workers, indeed. Why?”

Nightglow flustered a bit. “I was… I was just thinking. What if… what if we helped him reconstruct ourselves? Wouldn’t that allow him to… to save some of the money? We… almost everybody here at least know how to raise a barn, and it’s the least we could do for… for Fireclay,” he said gently.

Smokefall blinked, obviously surprised, and some couples looked at each others in wonder or silent conversations. Slowly, several people started to nod in approval. “He’s right, you know,” commented Tidalwave as he started to make Moonshift bounce on his spike once more. “The community could rebuilt the barn for him. Perhaps not the house itself, since it’s above our competences, but the barn and the henhouse? Oh yes, we could definitely do it if everybody helps.” Sentinel, as he tried to roll his hips to get some pleasure, Bulkhead having temporarily stopped to make him bounce as he listened to the drama, seemed to remember Tidalwave had tried to be a carpenter once, before dropping the idea.

“I agree,” Steamroller said seriously, Rennet still kneeling between his spread legs and working his glossa on his spike. “Fireclay is a good friend and he was always a dedicated member of our community. Helping him rebuild is the least we could do. You know, I still have the schematics of our third barn at Harmony Grove. We could use them,” he offered. Sentinel surprised himself in nodding, but then again, it was normal he did. Steamroller and Rennet had the biggest Electrosheeps’ flock of all Primus’ Blessing, and had at least three barns on their farm, and Rennet had mentioned they intended to build a fourth one if next year’s productions of yarn and energon-cheese were good.

There were a general consensus as more and more people nodded and approved. Shimmersun looked at his mate in delight, but Smokefall remained unsure. “That… that’s very generous of you, Goodmechs, Goodwives, but… I don’t think we can accept…I can’t… I mean, Fireclay…we can’t… The money… materials are still expensive...”

“Nonsense, dear!” Greenlight cut out as she cut off a kiss with her beloved Lancer. “We said we’ll help, and help we will, wherever you want it or not!”

“And if you so worried about the money… how about we collect it ourselves?” Mayor Levitacus asked, thoughtful.

Smokefall startled. “Oh, but no! I can’t ask you to donate anything! I know how much each of you need…”

“I wasn’t thinking of everybody giving you money,” Levitacus cut out. “I was thinking more about a social event where we could collect money for the barn. Then, we’d be able to use it to buy the materials, without your brother needing to add anything. This way, he’ll conserve his savings and hopefully, be able to come back to us faster.”

Smokefall’s jaw dropped. ”I… I don’t know what to say,” he stammered as Shimmersun embraced him.

“Then don’t say anything, Love, and just frag me,” his Endura chided him, rolling his hips to remind his mate he was still waiting for his attentions. After a beat, Smokefall did so with a light chuckle. Everybody imitated him, and soon after, the room was full of moans and cries of pleasure as the Conjunx resumed their conversation.

“And what sort of social gathering were you planning exactly?” Smokefall asked to Levitacus.

“How about a fair? We could easily do one,” Bulkhead suggested, to the surprise of Sentinel. Still, even with his sudden intervention, he didn’t stop to make the Prime bounce and whine. “I mean, with the game booths we already have for the Harvest Festivals, there must be a way to do something, right?”

Levitacus nodded eagerly. “An excellent idea! Why, I remember that when I was a sparkling, my Creators and all the farmers in town actively participated at the annual fair in Riverbend. They went to sell scarves and shawls, dresses and capes and cloaks fashioned by the local Endura. One of the carpenters in nearby Primus’ Gift, who generally joined them, had constructed a carrousel he transported to the town. There were also baked goods they sold in booths, which were quite appreciated.”

“It wouldn’t be too hard to do, I guess,” the nearby Huller commented. “But we’d need some time to prepare everything.”

“Well, it’s lucky that they are few harvests to do until next orbital cycle,” Brimstone noted. “If we devote a megacycle or two each solar cycle, we could easily make something worthwhile in under an orbital cycle.”

“That’s right,” Lancer approved. “I say our charming Enduras should work on doing clothes and baked goods to sell, while we lot work on making the future booths and perhaps a couple of attractions for sparklings. ‘Cause you know it’s them we need to interest first.”

“And what would you suggest?” asked Groundsplint, leaning forward while patting his Endura’s head.

Lancer shrugged as Greenlight clung to her, hiding her face against her shoulder as she rode her spike. "Well, I’m not too sure. Mayor Levitacus talked about a carousel, and I do remember watching a puppets show once as a sparkling, thought I can’t remember where; we were visiting family at the time.”

“A puppet show would be good,” Bulkhead nodded as he participated to the conversation. “On Moonbase II, in the place I grew up, one of the neighbors did one every decacycle for the younger sparklings, and there were some coming from nearby villages too.”

“Oh, Levitacus, dear,” Yoke said as he gave his Bonded a cube of oil, “why don’t we ask Clearway to participate? I’m sure he’d be delighted to man a show. You know how much he likes stories, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adapting one for the sparklings.”

Levitacus hummed. “Hmm, why not? For the carousel, I’ll ask Tinker; it was one of his brother who had built it, so they may still have it. And if not, they may have schematics we could use…”

“Another shooting gallery would be good, in case we have lot of people,” Baler noted. “It’s usually very popular.”

“How about a dance?” Stillbarrel suggested. “I’m sure it would interest some people.”

“I’d say we should also see to sell sparkling toys,” Huller rumbled. “It would boost the sells for sure.”

“But it takes a while to do them,” Steelflail said, unconvinced. “I’m not sure we’d be able to craft enough with so many things to prepare.”

“How about we ask the sparklings and younglings to contribute? We could have them sew rag dolls during the art and craft class,” Rookwall suggested. “And we could ask the older one to carve wooden toys. Didn’t you once say Cisel was very good at it, Huller?”

“That he is,” the mech said with pride. “I’ll ask him, and I don’t think he’ll say no. He likes to be able to practice his carving.”

“All that is fine,” Stillbarrell noted as more and more projects were exchanged -- like the sparklings also doing dresses for the dolls they’d craft, or Yoke making a special production of crystalberries wine just for the occasion to share with the participants or give as prize to a lottery; Sentinel only listened with one audio, trying to concentrate on Bulkhead’s spike inside him and the way it brought him closer and closer to overload -- “but it’s very common. If we want our fair to raise more interest, we’d need something more, something a bit special.”

“Well, perhaps,” Smokefall allowed, “but what?”

Stillbarrel tilted his head to the side. “Well, I may have an idea. You know I have some relations on other planets of the Commonwealth? One of them went to a fair, once where they had a very special kind of booth…”

The rest of what he said was lost to Sentinel as he overloaded at the same moment with a sharp cry, head threw back as pleasure rushed through him, making his system buzz with the release of the charge which had steadily built inside him. He stayed a moment only half-coherent and had trouble gathering his thoughts -- he really needed to refuel after that one.

“... I do know on them, of course. I saw some on Cybertron… Yes, I know…pretty unusual request, I must admit… He is a good Endura, he would never…! But perhaps… yes, if it’s just a peck... if it’s on the cheek, no it isn’t cheating… greetings can be done like that in some communities… No, I wouldn’t take offense, not if it can help. But I’d rather have Sentinel agree to it by himself rather than answer for him.” Wait, was that Bulkhead speaking?

“Of course,” Mayor Levitacus said. “What do you say, Sentinel? Would you accept and… care for that booth at the fair?”

Uh? They had been speaking about him? What had that been about? Suddenly very conscious of every gazed on him, Sentinel nervously tugged on his dress.

“Uh… you were saying?”

*******************************

“So, can I have my kiss now?” the stranger asked Sentinel with a big grin as he handed him a ticket Sentinel reluctantly took, hands shaking… in rage, mind you, even if his face was perfectly controlled and didn’t show his inner ranting about the unfairness of it all.

Reluctantly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against the unknown mech’s cheek. It was barely a kiss, but from the reddening of the mech’s face and his rather goofy smile, one had to guess it was a kiss enough. “Oh my, oh my!” he said, dreamingly as he walked away.

Sentinel put the ticket he had been given in a tin box, sighed and raising his head, glared at the sign hanging above his stall: ‘Kissing Booth; a kiss for a ticket!’ and, in smaller letters, ‘see the Main Tent for tickets’.

How the Pit had they managed to trick him into agreeing?

‘Please Sentinel, we need your help’, ‘you’re our only hope’, ‘please, for Fireclay and his family!’; Sentinel had almost snorted at the last one. He didn’t know the mech, so he didn’t feel really concerned. But the pleas, the pleas… they just hadn’t stopped! And at that, Bulkhead had continued to make him bounce on his spike, and Sentinel’s will -- for he had been strictly against kissing anyone! -- had finally crumpled.

So here he was, standing in a corner, manning a kissing booth while the fair was in full swing.

From what he could see, it certainly was successful enough. Whole families and no little amount of single strangers had come to Primus’ Blessing by feet or Zap-Horses carts. Sparklings spend their time running around laughing, consuming energon goodies and various homemade treats, and begged their Creators for more, and to give them money for the games or please, please, pleasepleaseplease, buy me that toy!

Everybody was working in some way. Mayor Levitacus had managed to find and borrow the old carousel he had spoken of, and strangely, the local farmers, led by Bulkhead, had even managed to build a second, slightly smaller one. How the oaf had managed to pull it off was a mystery to him, though Bulkhead had shrugged at the praise and commented that after having to build a Space Bridge from scratch, a simple carousel was incredibly easy. He just regretted there hadn’t been enough time for a third.

Technically, Sentinel felt that by mentioning having build a Space Bridge by himself, Bulkhead was revealing too much about himself and about his capacities. However, no one had caught on the fact it was out of the ordinary, so he had nothing to really complain about.

But, back to the fair. The two carousels drew sparklings to them by dozens. Clearway’s puppet show, which he did every megacycle, was also incredibly popular. Cisel manned a stall where he sold carved wooden toys such as tops or pawns for board games, all painted in ludicrous, optic-catching colors, courtesy of his siblings who had wanted to ‘help’. The toys were, however, popular, just like the rag dolls and hand-puppets the other sparklings and younglings had put together. It was Churn who took care of selling them, while various sparklings -- like Steelclaw and his brother Spade -- run around, advertizing the assorted special wardrobes they had created for the toys and which could be won as lots in a lottery.

Pollen and Apis were busy selling the energon goodies and treats, helped from time to time, when there were a lot of people around, by Rennet and Dewdrop, who also spend their time going back and forth between the kitchen of the Temple -- which the priests had readily agree to let them use -- to bring back more treats to sell. Scythe and Furrow, for their parts, took care of selling clothes at two different booths on opposite ends of the fair -- not because of their Conjunx’ rivality, but because it forced visitors to go back and forth and see more things in the rest of the fair.

Games of ‘Knock em Over’, ‘Horseshoes’, ‘Aurum-Apples bobbing’,‘Darts’ and ‘Bat a Rat’ brought people, sparklings like adults, over very easily. Mechs and femmes obviously had fun playing them, while they also listened to some music, provided by the improvised orchestra   
made of Sister Ara, who played a piano-like instrument, Lancer, who was playing pipes, and Threasher and Claymate, who both played violins, added to a youngling Sentinel wasn’t familiar with, Snowdrift -- one of Auger and Mistcover, from his looks; he definitely had his Sire’s helm --, who was using an assortment of percussions. Some couples were waltzing on an improvised dance floor. All in one, everybody was having fun…

Except Sentinel, that’s it.

He was starting to get really ticked off. It wasn’t fair he had to kiss random strangers! Not that he would have liked to, you know, man the carousels or do the puppet shows, since he’d rather not spend too much time with sparklings. But still! Just because he was the newcomer, the ‘citybot’, everybody sort of expected him to just be okay with the notion of kissing anyone! Well, he was not!

Thankfully, nobody expected him to do anything but kisses on the cheek. On the lips was a big no-no, which was lucky for him, or consequences be damned, he would have made his mind known, probably in a very loud and possibly vulgar way.

That said, he thought as he glanced at his full box of tickets, it could have been much worse. Grudgingly, he even admitted that the Kissing Booth wasn’t a bad idea; so far, he had had a rather… shy but constant amount of ‘clients’ coming, flushing, for a kiss. All singles, he had to add, and chatting about how they hoped that someday they’d find someone as lovely as Sentinel to Bond with. Everybody so far had been polite, understanding and… ‘sweet’. Yes, it could have been much worse, he thought with some satisfaction.

Which was probably was why Primus decided to mess with him once more.

“Hello, handsome,” a deceptively sweet voice called out. Sentinel raised his head to look at an unknown mech who had come close without him noticing. Something about him made Sentinel bristle. He didn’t know what exactly. The mech didn’t seem overenergized -- they didn’t sell or had high grade on display, only the crystalberries wine bottles Yoke had presented as lots for the lottery, and so far only two had been won, and by families at that. He wasn’t exactly bad looking or threatening either, but… Perhaps it was the smile, who was a bit too swarthy for the Prime, or perhaps it was the optics, which were roaming over him in a way that made Sentinel feel very uncomfortable.

Worse, he had put a ticket on display on the counter. The Prime wondered briefly if he was allowed to refuse someone on the ground they made him uncomfortable or grated on his CPU. Probably not, he thought after a moment. Bah. Let’s give him his kiss so he would get away.

With a thin smile that didn’t show his reluctance, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against the mech’s cheek, like he had done for so many others. They had been quite satisfied with that. But unfortunately, this one didn’t seem so.

“What, that’s all? It was hardly a peck. How about you give me a real kiss, eh, sweetspark?” the stranger asked winking.

Okay, that was it. “It’s Sentinel, Sir. Not ‘sweetspark’,” he said almost frostily. “And this was a kiss. So unless you have another ticket, I’d like you to go away now.”

“Now, that’s hardly a way to being nice, ‘Sentinel’,” the mech chided. “That said, I don’t mind. See, I’ve already another ticket. Oh, and another,” he mentioned casually as he put two tickets on the table and propped his elbows on the table, head in his hands. “Well, kissy, kissy, lovely. Sentinel. By the way, you have a very nice name. Almost as nice as your frame,” he said, almost leering as he watched the Prime. Ugh. For once, Sentinel thought dimly, he was rather happy with the dress.

“Right,” he muttered as he leaned forward to kiss the mech again, on the cheek once again, as it was planned. To ‘satisfy’ the client and have him go away as fast as possible, he made it more than a brush, but quickly retired. “There. Happier?” he asked, feeling a bit tense.

The mech hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm, yes, there are progresses, but that’s not quite what I had expected. How about another kiss? Oh, and another still,” he added as he put two more tickets on the table.

Sentinel’s optics ridge rose. “Just how many did you buy, Sir?” Five already? Hadn’t they fixed a limited number by buyer?... Well, apparently not; beside, so far, there was only one mech who had come more than once, aside from this guy. Kissing Booth was successful, but people hesitated at coming more than one, since Sentinel was obviously someone’s Endura. A kiss wasn’t much, but asking for more than one was daring.

This one guy, however, was more than daring; he was almost… leery.

“Oh, some,” the mech alluded easily. At Sentinel’s narrowed optics, he chuckled. “Aren’t you a curious little thing? I can assure you, I have just as many as I need.”

“Why don’t that reassure me?” the Prime deadpanned.

“Oh, nervous? Don’t be, I’m a very gentle mech. Promise,” he winked. “Now, can I have my kisses, sweetspark?”

Grunting, Sentinel leaned forward to give the damn kisses. The first one went well, but at the last second when he tried to do it again, the mech shifted, making Sentinel kiss him on the lips. The Prime’s optics widened and he jerked back, rubbing his forearm against his mouth. “Wha…?! What was that for?!”

“Oh, sorry sweetspark,” the mech smiled, unrepenting. “I just couldn’t resist the temptation of your pretty lips. They looked so tasty… and they are,” he smiled widely in a way that send shudders down Sentinel’s spinal struts.

“They’re for my Conjunx only,” Sentinel warned, glaring, and surprising himself at saying that aloud.

“Is that so? You’re still kissing other mechs, though.”

“Not on the mouth!” Sentinel snapped, definitely angered. Was he allowed to punch him? He hardly thought someone would care, or even tell him he had been wrong to do so, but you never knew.

The mech pouted. “That’s too bad, because these are the best kisses… Well, almost the best,” he corrected with a wicked glint in his optics that made Sentinel very wary. “Say, how about I give you the kisses, sweetspark?” he said as he put a dozen more tickets on the table, and Sentinel’s jaw dropped slightly. How in the Pit had he managed to get so many?!

“That’s… not the way that booth works,” he warned as he found his voice back. “And my name is Sentinel,” he said coldly. Who did that mech think he was?!

“Aww, don’t be like that, cutie,” the mech whined. “I just say we could, to gain more… time. Well, we could go to your rhythm too, since you don’t seem to have many clients right now,” he said as he looked around. True enough, Sentinel’s booth wasn’t getting much attention right now, helped by the fact the orchestra had started to play in earnest with the sudden appearance of Pastor Acrux and Pastor Alkes, who had started to sing with the music and were drawing more and more couples to the dance floor. The stranger turned back to Sentinel. “Eh, it even looks like we’ll get some alone time for a moment. How about we… spice up the kisses?” he winked.

“Spice up?” Sentinel asked frostily.

The mech leered openly. “You’re such a cutie, sweetspark, and your lips were so tasty. That’s okay if you don’t want to give me another taste, but how about I kiss you instead? Everywhere? Especially under that pretty dress of yours?”

“What?” Sentinel asked flatly. Ok, that was it. He was going to kill that mech -- or at least, maim him a little. He might not have his battle lance or his Skyboom shield on him -- they were hidden in the Master berthroom at Shady Acres -- but Sentinel was still a Prime, an Elite Guard member, and without being a Cyberninja, he did have a decent grasp of hand-to-hand fight. Enough to give a lecherous civilian a thrashing to remember!

The mech licked his lips. “You heard me right. How about we find a quieter corner and you lift that dress, so I can kiss and eat that sweet valve of yours? I can already imagine it, tight and hot and just eager for some attention,” he said with a grin as he leaned forward, looking at Sentinel in lust.

“I’m Bonded, and my valve is for my Conjunx and him alone,” Sentinel said flatly as he took a step to the side, ready to move around the booth and just sucker-punch the lecherous slagger, stating the first thing that came to mind and which could apply to the present circumstances. Just in case someone overheard, of course. And besides, who knew who that mech was and what he would tell anyone? Better play safe and... not show how close he was to lost it and kick some afts. In truth, he wanted to start swearing and threw a few punchs, but that wouldn't be very Endura-like, would it? That said, knocking a few of his teeth would feel marvellous, he thought.

The mech snorted. “Come on, if he was really satisfying you, you wouldn’t b…”

The low howl of rage was the only warning both Sentinel and the stranger got before a wrecking-ball just caught the mech from the side and lifted him from his pedes, sending him crashing to the ground several mechanometers away. The Prime wondered briefly how he could have missed Bulkhead’s approach -- either the oaf had become stealthier, or Sentinel was seriously out of his game. That said, he wasn’t going to complain… much. Sure, he’d have liked punching the slagger who had dared to hit on him himself, but seeing Bulkhead looming over the fallen mech, optics white in rage and shaking in fury just made the Prime’s spark flare up in pride and… something else he wasn’t sure he could identify. It wasn’t love… or at least he didn’t think so. Perhaps it was acknowledgement? Yes, that was it. Acknowledgement. Nothing more.

Sentinel was barely aware the music had stopped and that more and more mechs were coming to see what the fuss was all about. There were mutterings in the crowd, and a sparkling was telling something very fast to his Creators, who in turn gasped and turned to other peoples, spreading the information. The mutterings took an angry edge, and dark looks were given to the mech whose aft Bulkhead was busy kicking. Apparently, the little one had noticed the kiss on the mouth and the unwilling flirting Sentinel had endured, and had run in search of Bulkhead, who had come to defend his Beloved and teach the fragger daring to hit on his Endura a lesson.

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling in satisfaction as his Conjunx -- the oaf, damnit, even if he was legally his Bonded! -- delivered punch after punch and screamed imprecations at the would be adulterer. People were nodding at the punishment, though some winced at some of the most serious hits Bulkhead delivered. Other looked at Sentinel worriedly. Nightglow and Sterling actually run to him, optics wide.

“Oh, Sentinel! Are you alright dear?”

“Perfectly well,” the Prime answered casually as he watched Bulkhead throw the other mech over his shoulder in a move that was definitely Circuit-Su. Wow, who knew the Repair Crew reject knew that? That Cyberninja of them must have been a good teacher, if he had managed to teach him that one. Hmm, perhaps he should make the oaf stop?... Naw. He was having way too much fun. “Go Bulkhead!” he encouraged loudly.

Nightglow and Sterling took hold of his hands. “We’re so, so sorry dear! We never thought someone like that would come and try to take advantage of you!”

“We should never had listened to Stillbarrel and refuse that Kissing Booth thing! Or we should have posted a security guard next to you to be certain nobody would try and do… things to you!”

Advantage? Do things to him? Please, he almost snorted. Were they really thinking him unable to defend himself?... Well, he supposed Enduras seldom did; their Conjunx probably were the ones who defended them against anything. “I could have handled him,” he boasted.

Nightglow and Sterling just shook their head. “So brave…” they muttered.

Bulkhead’s thrashing of the creepy lecher lasted a little while as everybody watched. His rage finally abated and with a last kick, he pushed the whimpering mech away, sending him sprawling in the dirt at the pedes of a couple of mechs -- probably friends of him, at the aghast and pitying looks they gave the mech -- who took hold of him and dragged him away. Sentinel saw, in the crowd, Counterstep walk toward them with a crossed expression, though the anger he felt was more likely directed at the flirt than at Bulkhead -- for he nodded at him briefly when they crossed gaze, Sentinel noted. As a medic, he just had to check on the poor fragger. Well, good luck, because Bulkhead hadn’t been tender with him, what’s with his sudden anger. The white optics had been rather creepy…

White optics which were now staring at him, he noticed with alarm!

By reflex, he took a step back, his back hitting the counter of the booth as Nightglow and Sterling prudently retreated. Bulkhead walked toward him with a crossed expression which made Sentinel gulp. “Bu… Bulkhead, don’t look at me like that!” he ordered. Or at least, he tried to order. His voice was stammering too much to be truly effective in stopping a mech who was obviously out of his CPU.

Bulkhead stopped finally right in front of him, their chests almost touching, and Sentinel tried to bite back any wrong words as Bulkhead looked down at him. His optics had become, well, bluer, but he was still looking very contraried.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked gruffly.

Sentinel blinked. “No, he did not,” he answered. Was that show of anger… because the oaf had been worried for him?

“He did try to touch you,” he stated simply, expecting no answer, and Sentinel didn’t give him one, he just shrugged. It was obvious Bulkhead had happened on the scene quickly enough to grasp some of the conversation, most notably the end, where the stranger had stated Bulkhead wasn’t mech enough to satisfy…

_Oh frag_ , Sentinel realized too late as Bulkhead gave him a push which disequilibrated him and made him fall on his back, right on the counter. The oaf lost no time in lifting his skirt just as Sentinel heard the tell-tale sound of a panel sliding apart, just as he felt something hard poke against his thigh. His valve started to lubricate by reflex, already preparing itself to be filled.

Sputtering, Sentinel tried to sit and smooth his dress, uncomfortable at the idea he was flashing everybody -- the other Conjunx and Enduras of Primus’ Blessing were a thing, but all these strangers?! “Bulkhead! Don’t you… Bulkheaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!” he shouted as he was promptly pushed back down, a hand pressing against his chestplates just as Bulkhead started to push his large spike inside him with a grunt. Sentinel keened and threw his head back as Bulkhead just entered him faster and rougher than usual.

Unlike his habits, the green mech started to pick up a quick pace immediately and, surprisingly, took to bite Sentinel’s neck once or twice. His thrusts were deep, fast and rough, very unlike his usual tenderness and slow pace. Sentinel could only shout in surprise, please and a little pain as his legs automatically tied themselves around his Conjunx’s waist as he was fragged, hard. His frame was overheating and his valve kept rippling around Bulkhead’s member as the large mech grunted, hands roughly grabbing Sentinel’s hips. The Prime threw his arms around his lover’s neck and threw his head back once more as he overloaded a first time, his valve clenching and squeezing Bulkhead’s spike, trying to milk fluids that hadn’t been released yet.

As the charge dissipated slightly, he was suddenly very aware of the voices of dozens of people cheering and applauding them. Sentinel’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he realized everybody at the fair was watching them and nodding approvingly at them, and talking with approval of the rough frag his Conjunx was giving him to show them he was certainly not letting anyone even think about touching what was his. Whatever it was the comments or Bulkhead hitting one particular cluster of nodes, Sentinel overloaded again almost immediately with a cry of shock and pleasure mixed, just as he felt a rush of fluids inside him, showing Bulkhead had also overloaded.

But the green mech wasn’t stopping his thrusts, he wasn’t even slowing down, and Sentinel dimly realized, as he braced his body, that the oaf was still hard. Despite having overloaded once, he was still fragging him, never taking a break. Sentinel’s valve throbbed pleasingly as Bulkhead worked him over, greedily sucking the transfluids he released deep inside the gestational chamber. Dimly, Sentinel thought that the overloads were even more intense when Bulkhead was like that, rough and fast and possessive.

The Prime didn’t know how long it lasted, only that he had had half a dozen overloads before Bulkhead, with a final grunt, retreated from him, fluids gushing from his sore valve as he stayed momentarily unmoving, lost in a daze. It had really been… intense. Sentinel wasn’t unused to rough interfacing -- he had had his fair share of it, when he had been exploring his likes and dislikes as a younger bot -- but it really was the first time he had had one with a spike so large inside him. Slag it could have had hurt him, had his valve not been so stretched already! Suddently, he had a novel respect and understanding for Bulkhead’s carefulness. If he wasn’t so gentle with anyone smaller than him… His valve throbbed. He felt more than he saw Bulkhead pick him up and held him carefully against him as they turned to face the crowd.

“So, is there anyone here who’d like to imply I don’t know how to satisfy my Endura?”

In Sentinel’s tired CPU, the sentence struck something, and he could only stare at Bulkhead in disbelief. The frag?! He had done that… only because someone had insulted his virility while hitting on Sentinel? And everybody was actually cheering for him because he had defended his honor (and Sentinel’s) in front of a poor excuse of a mech?

… the moment they were alone, he was going to strangle him.

He shook his head as Bulkhead walked and started to cross the crowded fair, though the crowd itself parted as they nodded and smiled at them. “Bulkhead, put me down immediately!” he hissed.

The oaf looked down at him with a small frown. “No way. You’re staying with me until we go back to Shady Acres. I won’t have another scoundrel trying to hurt or make eyes at you,” he said forcefully as he rejoined the stall he had been in charge of, the one selling the lottery tickets. He sat down in his seat and pulled Sentinel in his laps, an arm around his waist. Sentinel tried to free himself, but there was little space to manoeuvre, and Bulkhead was holding him firmly.

“Release me,” he hissed again. “I need to… to go back to my own booth,” he tried.

The oaf shook his head, optics narrowed. “No way. You can -- and everyone by extension -- consider that booth closed. You’re staying with me, and that’s final,” he insisted, an irritated and protective expression on his face, and Sentinel swallowed and, with a grunt, settled himself for a long wait. Better not attract any more attention than they were receiving already; if he started a spat now, with so many strangers around...

Slightly cheered by Sentinel compliance, Bulkhead looked at the crowd with a smile. “Please, excuse us for that interruption, it won’t happen again. That said, this is a fair. We’re here to have some fun, so… let’s have some!” he said goofily as mechs nodded, cheered and started to spread in every directions, intend on getting back to what they were doing before the commotion.

Sentinel smoothed his dress moodily. “You’re proud of yourself, I suppose?” he said, unhappy.

Bulkhead’s hand squeezed his aft, making him gasp. “I’m not sorry to have defended your honor and mine, if that’s what you’re implying. And trust me, I won’t hesitate to do it again if I must,” he said seriously.

Sentinel would have wanted to say a lot, especially about the fact he didn't anyone to 'defend his honor', thank you very much, but instead, he just leaned against him and hoped things never came to that again…


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new Festival brings some shocking news to Sentinel and Bulkhead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for the readers: This is the chapter most of you have been waiting for. Enjoy! =3

Should he be satisfied or not, Sentinel wondered as he leaned against Bulkhead and watched as Farrier and Nightglow received the general blessing of the Priests and the townsfolk.

On one hand, he was quite happy to not be, once again, the ‘Queen’ of the Harvest Festival. No, that ‘honor’, for once since their arrival, belonged to Nightglow, who was positively beaming as his hands reached under his short skirt to touch himself. Because, just as usual, the end of the Festival included interfacing in public, again. For once, however, nobody had proposed them the titles of King and Queen, for this particular Festival required a Carrying Queen, who was supposed to try and share his/her blessed state with the locals, by tracing sacred glyphs with his/her lubricants on the participating Enduras’ bodies, while the King would do the same with his transfluid on the Conjunx’ bodies. It was hoped that the fluids would help a couple conceive faster. Funny how a lot of the Festivals celebrations all comported myths and rituals about fertility and the best ways to increase it, no matter how stupids...

As he watched Nightglow start to paint a symbol on Shimmersun’ abdomen with his lubricant-strained servos -- just like at the preceding Festival, Enduras only wore a loincloth and a cape -- the Prime reflected he was lucky his contraceptives had held so far… and that despite the interfacing, there was no sign he was carrying as of yet, which was a blessing. Yup, Sentinel considered himself lucky not to be ‘Queen’ for once. On the other hand… since he was going to frag in public anyway, should he really feel comforted?

Even as he thought so, his valve gave an hungry throb, practically begging to be stuffed full by Bulkhead’s huge spike, and Sentinel leaned a bit more closely to the Space Bridge Technician, frame starting to heat slowly with lust-filled pangs. It was… worrisome, what his body wanted, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to really care anymore. At least, not in a panicky/out-of his-mind way.

Perhaps it was because he was starting to get so used to interfacing… Yes, that had to be that, he decided. He spend so much time riding Bulkhead’s spike at Conjunx/Enduras’ reunions and night after night that his body must have just started to heat up by reflex. He certainly didn’t love Bulkhead and the way he kept stuffing him so full and stretching him so wide…

… And his valve was lubricating. Damn.

Seriously, it ought to worry him, the way he was craving interfacing these days. Bulkhead hadn’t seemed to be overly concerned, though he had mentioned at one point -- just like he did before, a couple of times -- that Sentinel should lay low about the treats he was weekly gifted with by the other Enduras. It irritated Sentinel. What did Bulkhead took him for, exactly? The Prime admitted he had a sweet tooth, but that didn’t meant he spend his time eating any and every treats he was offered with! In truth, he hadn’t eaten a single one in several solar cycles.

For some reason Sentinel couldn’t fathom, it had seemed to really struck Bulkhead, who had remained frozen for a moment before starting to smile goofily and taking him to the berthroom, where they proceeded to… well, you get the idea. Sentinel hadn’t exactly been happy with it, but he had gone along with it, and it had been… pleasant enough.

The Prime had also taken to recharge longer and take more fuel at each meal, for some reason. Eh. That virus that had been plaguing him for so long was probably acting up. Yes, that had to be it. Bulkhead hadn’t noticed, and Sentinel hesitated in bringing up the matter to him. After all, it was probably just some sort of phase, nothing to worry about. He would get and feel better soon.

“Sentinel? Ready to go?” Bulkhead asked him as he took a step forward, and the Prime glanced at him, nodding grimly. The sooner it was over, the sooner they could get back home and he could recharge… and eat some of the Plumbun-kin pie he had prepared as a snack for when they’d be back. Mmm, perhaps he should also check if they still had some leftovers Beryl-beans, and perhaps… hmm, yes, Hydrogen-Honey sounded tasty, with some fresh Wire-Wheat bread… and a plate of Crystalberries Scones.

Licking his lips in anticipation, Sentinel joined Bulkhead as they climbed the steps to Farrier and Nightglow. The darkly colored mech was smiling widely at him.

“May you be blessed today, Sentinel,” he said with cheer as he reached for the Prime with his lubricant-covered servos. Sentinel tried not to react and just smile as Nightglow started to paint him; it sounded filthy to him, what they were doing. Then again, it was better than the previous Harvest Festival, and the way he had ended covered in fluids… He suppressed a shudder. At least, this time, the amount of fluids on his frame was limited. It would be swiftly cleared. And Sentinel had lot of lot of solvents at home, along with brand new rags and towels, to make sure there wasn’t a single dirty spot on his frame when it’d be over.

Looking down at his painted abdomen, Sentinel felt a bit uneasy. The scent from Nightglow’s lubricants was… very strong. Curious. He had never noticed before. For some reasons, his olfactive sensors seemed to have gained in strength and accuracy, which was a pain sometimes. There were some dishes he just couldn’t stand the odor of anymore. Not enough to give him nausea, but close.

Nightglow picked on his trouble quickly, frowning at the perturbed look on Sentinel’s face. “Are you alright dear?” he asked in a low, worried voice.

Sentinel smiled at him quietly to reassure him. “Oh, yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just… the scent… is a bit too much,” he said in excuse with a shrug.

Nightglow winked. “Is that so? Do you have problems with your sensors?”

“Ah… kinda,” Sentinel admitted, seeing that nobody was paying them too much attention -- Bulkhead and him were the last couple to go through the ‘ritual painting’ and all the other were… otherwise busy. Bulkhead himself was busy exchanging pleasant words with Farrier, so the Prime guessed it was okay to speak a bit with Nightglow. “Probably just a virus, nothing I’d worry about, I’m sure my firewalls will handle it in no time. In the meanwhile, I’ll just deal with the heightened olfactive sensors, the tiredness and the hunger pangs,” he reassured his sort-of friend.

Nightglow’s optics glowed strongly. “Tiredness? Hunger pangs?... Sentinel? Did you talk about it to Bulkhead?”

The Prime shook his head. “Well, no, no need to,” he assured him. “I told you, it’s probably nothing.”

Nightglow was looking at him in a way that put Sentinel on edge. “Please, don’t be angry at me for asking, I know you’re a rather private mech and that you’re kinda shy about these matters, but… did you start to crave interfacing with Bulkhead? More than usual, I mean?”

Sentinel shuffled. “You’re right, it’s private,” he said with a half-glare that lacked strength -- he couldn’t bring himself to really be angry at Nightglow right now. “But… yes, I did,” he admitted in a low voice.

Nightglow was starting to smile. “Sentinel? I think you really should go see Counterstep next morning, as soon as you can.”

Sentinel stiffened. “I don’t see why. I mean, none of my symptoms look or sound serious.”

Nightglow laughed softly, gathering the attention of Farrier and Bulkhead. “Nightglow? Is everything alright, Beloved?” Farrier asked as he took Nightglow’s hands in his.

“Perfectly well, my Love. I was just telling Sentinel he ought to go see Counterstep.”

Bulkhead looked alarmed as he grabbed Sentinel’s shoulders and made him turn toward him. “Sentinel! Are you sick?! Why didn’t you tell me?! I wouldn’t have accepted to come if you had told me!”

“I’m perfectly alright,” the Prime groused, trying to free himself from the larger mech’s grip. “Nightglow is just overreacting,” he insisted.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the other mech said airily. “Because you see, I’m very familiar with the symptoms you listed, and I’m almost certain of what they mean.”

“What? What is Sentinel suffering from?” Bulkhead asked worriedly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say ‘suffering’,” Nightglow chuckled, and for some reason, it filled the Prime with dread. The darkly colored mech started to smile. “Let’s just say that, if I’m right, then today’s blessing is a bit late…”

*****************************

“Well, it’s official. You’re Carrying, Sentinel. Congratulations to you and Bulkhead for this marvellous event.”

“Congratulations Sentinel!”

The Prime stared blankly at Sterling and Counterstep, who were looking down at him with twin smiles, wide and happy. Congratulations? Congratulations for what? It was a disaster! The world had taken a slight haze and he wondered if he was going to faint. He hoped not; with his luck, the idiot Doctor would think it was a sign he or the sparkling wasn’t fine and would recommend more ‘transfluid donation’ to help strengthen the little one. Not that there would be any, because the moment they were alone, he was going to personally cut out Bulkhead’s spike to make sure it never ended in him ever again!

Speaking of the oaf who had somehow managed to Spark him up… Bulkhead was sitting beside him, looking dumbfounded, his processor having probably failed to let the news sink in just yet. Well, good, Sentinel thought viciously. By reflex, he put a hand over his abdomen. He was sparked. He was going to have a sparkling… Oh slag!

No, no, no, no, no, no! No way!

He WASN’T going to have sparkling!

He wanted an abortion! And he wanted it now! He shuffled and opened his mouth to scream, but couldn’t make a single sound. Well, apparently, Bulkhead wasn’t the only one who was in shock, he thought dimly as Sterling squeezed his hand grinning.

Counterstep looked very proud. “You’re about one orbital cycle and half along, from the looks of it,” he said as he waved the scanner he had used to determinate Sentinel’s condition. “Readings were clear and perfect; you’re bearing a very healthy, strong bitlet. Of course, given your and Bulkhead’s physical condition and spark energy, anything else was highly improbable. That said, at the rate he is growing, I can only recommend you to take additional additives in your fuel. You should also try and consume more of certain mechanicrops, which are richer in needed components. I’m going to prepare you a list,” he said as he turned and walked to his desk. “You shouldn’t hesitate to refuel in quantity. This is, of course, for your own good but also the good of the sparklet. For him, I can also prescribe a more detailed diet. Oh, regular transfluids donations should help strengthen the little one faster, so never hesitate in riding your Conjunx’s spike as often as possible. Also as it’s your first, I can only recommend you to be very careful: no exhausting efforts, no carrying heavy charges,...” he continued to list restrictions.

Sentinel listened with a blank look. Why didn’t that even surprise him, half of what he was being told. Sterling, next to him, was giving him recommandations about his wardrobes, and what dresses would be better to wear from now on, and how he had nice maternity dresses patterns he could lend to Sentinel if the Prime needed to sew himself a few more than the ones he had been gifted with at his Bonding ceremony… Mindless talks also about how the Enduras would be so happy at the new and would certainly shower him in gift both for him and the future sparkling.

… Was he allowed to shudder and scream his head off in panic? Because it was really tempting.

Counterstep was still talking. “... and really, really be careful about the ChronoCows or the Zap-Horses; a single hit from them could really hurt the bitlet. In fact, I think it would be better if Bulkhead started to take care of them from now on. I trust you’ll not see it as a problem, Bulkhead?”

The oaf seemed to awaken and he shook his head vigorously. “Oh, uh, right, right. No problem. I’m going to do my very best to keep Sentinel healthy. Him, and our sparkling. Our _sparkling_ ,” he repeated, still sounding dumbfounded. But a slow smile was making his way on his fine, blooming into a full grin as he turned toward Sentinel and just grabbed him by the arms, lifting him up and making him turn in the air with a booming laugh.

“A sparkling! Our sparkling!” he laughed in choice as Sentinel yelped and asked to be let go of. Bulkhead just hugged strongly against his chest, nuzzling him as Sterling and Counterstep chuckled.

“This is a most wonderful news, isn’t it?” Sterling said smiling.

“The most wonderful I ever heard,” Bulkhead said solemnly. “I always wanted to be a Creator. I just can’t believe it’s finally happening!”

“Lovely to see you take it so well,” Sentinel muttered darkly as he tried to get away from the green mech, who wasn’t decided to release him.

Counterstep shook his head indulgently. “Really, I think you’ll make a good Sire, just like Sentinel certainly seems to have the making of a fine Carrier. That said, I can only encourage you to be generous with your transfluid’s donations. Actually, I think it would be better if Sentinel kept a plug each time you’re finished for the next orbital cycle. The scanner may shows the sparkling is healthy, but the readings were fluctuating. Now, it may be nothing,” he added at Bulkhead alarmed look and Sentinel’s small grunt of pain as the larger mech squeezed his shoulders with too much strength. “But I’d feel better knowing you’re taking sensitive precautions. Anything that can help this sparkling get big and strong will have to be done.”

“You can count on me, Doctor,” Bulkhead said with fervor. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure both Sentinel and our bitlet are fine.”

“I’m certain you will,” Counterstep smiled. “Now, I think you two should go back home and take some rest… as well as starting to work on strengthening that little one, eh?” he added with a wink just as Sterling chuckled lightly.

Sentinel smiled tensely as Bulkhead nodded and led him out. His mind sprout a litany of swear words as he was helped to climb in the Zap-Horses cart by Bulkhead, who was starting to fuss over him as if Sentinel was a sparkling himself.

“Do you feel alright, dear? You’re aren’t cold, I hope? Oh, but I’m silly, with all the wind we have today, you must be freezing! Damn, I knew I should have stored a cover in the cart or in subspace! Are you angry? I’ve a few Copper-Cookies in my subspace pocket, if you want a light snack until we’re back home. Oh, how about we stop by Rippling River? It’s on our way, and Mistcover bakes treats every morning for his sparklings, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind handing you some…”

“Enough,” Sentinel hissed, and Bulkhead startled at his tone. “I’m not fragile, slag it! I’m perfectly fine, aside of having a… a… a parasite growing inside me!”

“It’s our sparkling, not a parasite,” Bulkhead said, frowning and eyeing the Prime warily.

“Whatever,” Sentinel grumbled. “No matter what it is, it won’t stay inside me for long.”

“What do you mean?” Bulkhead asked, suddenly alarmed. He had a pretty good idea of what the Prime was referring to, though. “You can’t abort it, Sentinel,” he half-warned, half-pleaded. “Abortion is illegal on Agri III and about every planet holding energon farmers, unless it’s a medical urgency to save the Carrier’s life! You’re both healthy, so no one will ever…!”

“I know,” Sentinel cut him. “That doesn’t mean we can’t go back to Cybertron for a visit -- or on any planet of the Commonwealth where abortion is legal -- and get rid of it. Must I remind you we’re on a mission? We haven’t come here to play ‘perfect little family’, and I’ve certainly not come to get myself sparked up,” he said, thinking about Apis and Pollen and the emergence of their respective sparklings. Primus, he didn’t want that to happen to him!

“I won’t let you, Sentinel,” Bulkhead warned darkly, twitching. “I won’t let you harm my sparkling, nor will I ever consent at you aborting him.” And Sentinel would need his consent, for it was required both Bonded signed the papers permitting the process. Bulkhead never would; he found life too precious to even consider the idea, unless there was absolutely no other choice. And if Sentinel insisted… well, cuffing him to the berth until the last stage of his pregnancy was probably a bit too much, but if it was what it took to have that sparkling delivered alive and healthy, then Primus be witness, he would. Even if Sentinel hated him for that.

A sparkling… his sparkling… How long had he imagined this day? How long had he dreamed of that? Of course, he had never imagined the other Creator not wanting the Bitlet, so it really bothered him, and he felt a bit at lost. What was he supposed to do for everyone to be happy?

Sentinel pursed his lips as he watched the oaf. “Right. Whatever. We’re still Autobots. Soldiers. Part of the Elite Guard -- or at least, I am. And we’re on a mission. I’m sure the higher ups will see things like me and tell us to find a way to abort it.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, the news aren't what Sentinel was hoping for...

“What do you mean, I can’t abort it?!”

Things weren’t going nearly as well as he had hoped. Bulkhead had safely retreated at the other end of the couch when Sentinel had brought up the unexpected news and was looking nervously at the disgruntled Prime, though he seemed very hopeful now. Bumblebee, the little slagger, was busy laughing on the floor, and Sentinel couldn’t resist giving him a kick -- which the little nuisance barely felt, from what he saw. Ratchet was watching him with a cocky, amused look. And Jazz, who for some reason had come, was the picture of quiet fascination.

But none were as unnerving as Blurr, who, just had a blank look on his face and didn’t seem to take what he had been said very seriously. Or at least, not in the serious way Sentinel had expected.

Blurr was looking at him with narrowed optics. “Exactly what I said, Sentinel. There’s no way you can safely abort this newspark here, and it’s impossible to extract you to Cybertron to… remove it. Besides, it is my understanding your neighbors are quite aware of your present state,” he said as he glanced to the pile of gifts couples had personally brought to Shady Acres --sparklings toys and maternity dresses and snacks and slagging plugs to stuff into Sentinel so he wouldn’t ‘lose any drop of Bulkhead’s precious transfluid’ --, all with big smiles and congratulations and tips on how to make sure to have healthy sparklings and spend a good carrying cycle. Sentinel hadn’t listened much; he should have… Blurr coughed. “As it is, they perfectly well know you’re healthy, and that the sparkling is not at risk, or at least I assume so. Background checks on Counterstep and Sterling showed that they were not shy about sharing good news, and that Counterstep can’t be bought as to fake a prenatal disease that should make an abortion a more favorable option than birthing a glitched and ill sparkling.”

“Any other medic on the planet, then? Surely, there is one who…?” Sentinel asked desperately.

“None, without proper documentations, and any exam they’d do would show abortion is not necessary,” Blurr cut out. “You’re going to have to bear that sparkling, Sentinel.”

The Prime started to curse a blue streak. Part of him really wanted to rise and pace the room as he mumbled and cursed the universe in general and stupid undercover missions among a bunch of pervert bots in particular. He did not, however, if only because he was uncomfortably reminded of the plug stuffed in his valve each time he moved.

Of course Bulkhead would follow the medic’s ‘advice’ to the letter! He took ‘great care’ in filling Sentinel with as much transfluid as he could; eck, he even took longer midday breaks only to frag him more often! He just pushed the plug in immediately after being finished, even when Sentinel sharply told him ‘no’ and struggled -- or tried to. After several overloads in a row, he wasn’t exactly in the right state to offer intense resistance. The plug kept all these fluids inside him, in a way that made the Prime almost sick as he could swear he could feel them slush inside him with every step he took. He could barely walk straight with that thing inside him! And Sentinel couldn’t even pull it out! The damn thing the oaf used on him was magnetized and would only come out if it was Bulkhead who took it away!

At least, the oaf had had the decency to look ashamed of what he was doing, but had been firm on the fact he would continue to do so, unless a direct order from Cybertron was involved. Tha damn Sparkling was more important to him than Sentinel’s ire. For once, Bulkhead couldn’t be convinced or threatened into submission, and it had been a disagreable surprise for Sentinel.

He was… he was fragged, unless he found a way out. He stared at his abdomen in distaste. To think there was really something growing inside him, something alive, which was going to progressively get as big as his Sire -- because, given his luck, Sentinel didn’t believe for a moment the bitlet was going to favor him -- and distort and twist his handsome silhouette...

“Is there a way I can get rid of it myself?” he asked aloud.

The horrified reaction from about everyone was immediate. Jazz was on him and holding his hands with a horrified expression even before he had finished his sentence. The old medic was growling and rushing to his pedes to check on him and Bulkhead was immediately looming over him, having left his corner of the couch to immobilize him. Bumblebee, still on the floor, had stopped laughing and was watching him with wide optics and a slightly hanging jaw. Blurr… Blurr was just frowning slightly.

“You idiot mech,” Ratchet growled as he held out a medical scanner, “what have you done?”

“Nothing!” Sentinel blurted out. “I did nothing! But slag it, I don’t want to have a sparkling!”

“Sentinel,” Bulkhead warned, frowning as he reached for him and lifted him to make him sit in his laps, to the Prime’s mortification. What did he think he was doing?! “We already spoke about it. You’re going to have our Sparkling, it’s not the end of the universe…”

“Speak for yourself!” the Prime snapped. “Release me! And there is no ‘ours’; he’s yours! It’s your parasite which is going to ruin my frame! I don’t want to have it! I don’t want you! The sooner this mission is over, the sooner we can be done with this… this farce!”

“Chill, SP,” Jazz said quietly even as Ratchet scanned him and Bulkhead rumbled.

“This is not a parasite,” Ratchet said, deadly quiet. “It is a living being, it is a Sparkling, a little life entirely depending on you. May Primus help him, because with you as a Creator, he’s really going to need it,” he grumbled in a low voice, making Sentinel bristle.

“And what is that supposed to mean?!”

“That’s you have the parental protocols of a rock,” the medic said, shrugging. “That said, there’s still hope for you. Sparklings tend to grow on you, and your processor rewrite itself accordingly.”

“So not only it’s a parasite, but it’s also a mind-bender?! Give me another reason I should keep it!” Sentinel shouted, panicked. “Blurr, please tell me I still have these emergency protocols for wiping my processor clean in case of capture! They can save me!”

Blurr raised an optic ridge. “Now you’re being overly melodramatic, Sentinel.” He glared at Ratchet. “You really shouldn’t scare him like that. You know full-well that the only way a sparkling may influence on processors is by being cute and cuddly, especially in their Carrier’s mind. Not by having virus-like capacities.”

Ratchet shrugged. “They still have an impact on processor by bringing forth dormant code lines. In a way, I’m very curious of the effect they’ll have on Sentinel.” He smirked. “‘Mommy’ Sentinel Prime… better hope the Jettwins won’t get jealous.”

Blurr winced. “Oh, good point.”

The Prime was shaking in anger. “How ‘nice’ of you to mock me and remind me of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding my subordinates! Them, I can live with; they’re soldiers, after all! I swear, Medic, that I’ll sic them after you if I need to,” he warned Ratchet, trying to free his hands, still held strongly by Jazz, who was watching him with a frown.

“SP, you really should calm down, it isn’t good for the bitlet -- and it even less good for you -- to be so tense,” he tried to cajole him.

“Calm down! How can you expect me to calm down! You’re not the one who is carrying against his will! What would you do if you were in my place?”

“I’ll keep it, even if I wasn’t the one who would raise him,” Jazz answered simply, making Sentinel stare at him in disbelief. “I want to have Bitlets of my own someday, SP. I just love tykes. That said, I don’t know if I’ll ever have some, but if I did, and still had duties to attend to… if I couldn’t raise it myself for some reason… I would still bear it until it’s born. Or I would be here for its Carrier, if I was the Sire. Even if he wouldn’t want me to take an active part in the little one’s life.”

“Well, you can have it,” Sentinel grumbled. Too bad they couldn’t transfer sparklings from a Carrier’s frame to another. Once you were sparked, you were in for the long haul.

Jazz chuckled. “As tempting as it is, I don’t think Bulkhead would forgive me if I took his Bitlet away.”

“Too right,” the large mech rumbled, with a flat look as he held Sentinel closer to him.

“Release me you oaf,” Sentinel grumbled as he fought. “It’s your own damn fault I’m sparked! Forget anything about playing the happy Bonded couple once we’re back on Cybertron! The moment that… that that thing pops out -- since it’s clear nobody cares that I don’t want to carry it to term but I don’t have a choice --, I’m done with you!”

“Hmm, I’d rather say that Bulkhead would be done with you,” Ratchet noted, “but for some reason, he seems to really like you, so I don’t really see it happen.” Bulkhead shuffled and gave the medic a warning look.

Sentinel blinked. “What?” He tried to turn his head enough to look at Bulkhead.

The green mech sighed. “Is it that hard to think that I may care about you? Just like I care about that Sparkling?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sentinel deadpanned. “You don’t love me, you love the easy frag,” he added, making Bumblebee gasp and jerk back as he watched the Prime and his friend with wide optics. “And nothing would have happened if someone hadn’t gotten caught with the contraceptives I needed to make sure it didn’t happen!”

“What? Uh, I thought Sentinel getting sparked was an accident, because of a one time occurrence?” Bumblebee asked, clearly nervous. “‘Cause… I mean, Bulkhead, you really…? Often enough to need contraceptives? ‘Cause I looked them up and Ratchet explained and he said they were for bots who frequently…” he mimed something with his servos. Ratchet’s face twitched as he remembered Bumblebee’s nagging, until he had explained to him the facts of life and Cybertronian reproduction. He had the feeling the mechs to blame for that were in the room.

“Yes, Bumblebee, we did,” Bulkhead sighed. Then he looked down at Sentinel. “I won’t deny that I mainly interfaced with you because it was pleasing, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t grown on me or that I don’t love you. The Sparkling is just… a welcome bonus,” he tried, though he lacked conviction, and Sentinel latched on that.

“Ah! You only want a breederbot! Well, no way I’ll ever be one for you! There’s no way I continue to play the happy farmer Endura who spend his time cooking, sewing and taking care of the mechanimals and the house and the sparklings! I want out! Why don’t we just pretend… Intelligence could stage my demise! Mechs can die from childbirth, right? You can always make it look like I did,” Sentinel asked.

Blurr shook his head. “Impossible. For one, the sparkling’s development will take time, and it is unsure you’ll remain on Agri III until its emergence. You must also realize that, should you still be on Agri III by the time of the birth, then that means you’re still on a mission, and that you’re still Bulkhead’s CO and expert in spy detection. As your cover is a Bonded couple, it would be too hard to send an operative to replace you. You must remain here, Sentinel.”

“CO? Yeah, on paper, but the mech treats me like a fragging slave,” Sentinel ranted as everybody glanced at Bulkhead who looked surprised. “You all do! It’s work, work, work every solar cycle! The moment we don’t, we frag! The only conversations I have with the other Enduras all end up turning about interfacing and the best way to please my Conjunx by fragging even more! They spend their time talking about their Sparklings and how marvellous it feels to have them move inside him and how much they hope to still have! Well, sorry, but I don’t see the appeal! You only get fat and unattractive and you can’t even properly work anymore! I learn nothing of value, only meaningless gossip! ... well, the cooking hold some value, I’ll give you that, but that’s not the point! I can’t have a single enlightening conversation about things I happen to like or care about, like auto-defense and polish and the latest Rosanna concert or the latest Council’s decision and Ultra Magnus’ policies! Nobody talks to me like… like an equal! Especially not the Conjunx! For almost everybody, I’m Bulkhead’s Endura, not simply ‘Sentinel’! They always ask him for things, never me! I… I feel like a slagging dead weight, and I can’t find a single way I’m useful on that mission,” he said, miserable. “The few leads I uncovered ended up false, and Bulkhead had realized they were long before me. How the Pit can you say I’m a CO, or even a respectable Autobot, in these conditions? Bulkhead can become a widower, and it’ll change nothing. He’ll even get a sparkling out of the deal, if he wants that thing so much,” he finished bitterly.

There was a long silence as Autobots exchanged startled and worried looks. Even Bumblebee stayed silent. Bulkhead coughed and relaxed the hold he kept on Sentinel, if only some. Jazz and him exchanged a look and the Cyberninja released Sentinel’s hands. Blurr shuttered his optics, vents working hard. Ratchet had a grim look on his face.

“You’re stressed,” he finally said. “I get it, trust me. But it’s not a reason to…”

“Ratchet, shut up,” Bulkhead said flatly, making Sentinel startle and the medic’s optics widen. “I think I’m the one who needs to speak with Sentinel here, not you.” He shifted his grip on the Prime, so that his hands weren’t touching the fabric-covered abdomen anymore, but instead rested heavily on the Prime’s shoulders. “I’m… sorry you feel that way about everything, Sentinel. Maybe I wasn’t… No, I know I wasn’t a very forward mech, nor was I very… understanding with you recently, and that I should have made more efforts to prepare you to everything you’d face here. That said, I had been assured you would be told everything and helped to prepare accordingly to actual energon farm work and an energon farmer’s life. Clearly, and we found out very early on, Intelligence didn’t even do the quarter of a decent job,” he said, glaring at Blurr, who winced. “I should have taken the time to correct it myself, but at the time… I just didn’t care, because you hadn’t been the nicest mech to me. No, no, don’t bother correcting me, you know it’s true,” he said as Sentinel opened his mouth to talk. “I’m sorry. But I think I’m not the only one at fault here.”

“I’m sorry too, Sentinel,” the lithe blue mech allowed. “I had been assured you were being told of everything pertinent for your mission. I had myself prepared several documents, including studies of Conjunx and Enduras’ roles in rural societies of the Commonwealth. Sadly, I only learned much later that whoever had been in charge of your actual debriefing had… sabotaged it. I’d like to present you excuses on the behalf of my division,” he said solemnly. “If I had caught on sooner… I wouldn’t have allowed you to come here so quickly, we would have waited some more until you were more prepared.”

“As if preparations would have changed anything,” Sentinel mumbled, feeling unhappy.

“That’s not quite true, and you know it,” Bulkhead chided him gently. “You’d have brought more contraceptives, for one, and you wouldn’t have been surprised or shocked about the interfacing and the Festivals. You could have been told about subjects Enduras do like to bring up in talks, and get used to them. You could have learned the basics of cooking and sewing, so you’d have had more time for yourself,” Bulkhead listed, and Sentinel had to grudgingly nod. There was some truth here; most of the things he was living through would have felt less degrading with proper training beforehand.

“As to the rest…” Bulkhead trailed off. “You’re a newcomer in their lifestyle, Sentinel. They know you don’t understand lot of things, or that your experience is limited. On the other end, I’m a farmer by core-coding, and I’ve grew up surrounded by mechs like them, taking care of the same kind of mechanicrops and mechanimals. I can blend in more easily than you could. The interfacing… I admit it is much, especially for someone who never come into contact with actual energon farmers before, but it’s part of the culture here. As for Conjunx and Endura… perhaps they put a bit too much emphasis on what was expected of you, but they probably never thought they were causing you anguish. To become either Conjunx or Endura isn’t something they take lightly; it’s something they usually decided the moment they reach their middle years and start flirting with their fellow younglings. They know already what will be expected of them, thank to having observed their Creators and their neighbors, and what is proper behavior and what isn’t for the role they have chosen. They spend their whole engagement perfectioning these roles,” he explained. “They know you’re from Cybertron, but they probably never realized how little Autobots cared about who did what in a couple. Perhaps, if we had explained to them… if we had tried things differently… let them know you shouldn’t be rushed… it would have caused you less anguish.”

“Less anguish… yeah, right,” Sentinel mumbled, but his shoulders had sagged as some of the tension eased out of him. “Don’t see what it changes,” he added after a while. “They’re not going to change their ways, and I’m still sparked and you won’t let me get rid of that parasite that is busy sucking up my energy.”

“No, they’re not going to change,” Bulkhead acknowledged, “but I promise I’m going to find a way to make you happier. And no, I won’t let you abort,” he added, knowing what Sentinel would like him to say. “None of us will, because we want to see that Sparkling live.”

“But why?” Sentinel asked, exasperate. “I’m not cut out to be a Creator! Ask anybody in that room! Eck, I very much doubt the Council is very happy with the way Jetstorm and Jetfire look up to me as surrogate Creator!”

“You didn’t seem to mind it too much last time we came,” Blurr pointed out.

Sentinel grunted. “They’re my subordinates. I taught them to fight and they listen to me. They might be young in processors, but I can deal with them. And I didn’t have to expulse them from my body through my valve!” Bumblebee audibly choked.

Bulkhead coughed. “I can’t talk for the others, but in my case, Sentinel, I want you to have that Sparkling because…”

“Because?” Sentinel asked, almost gritting his teeth.

“Because it’s our Sparkling, Sentinel,” Bulkhead rumbled. “It is mine, and it is _yours_ ,” he said as he took hold of one of Sentinel’s hand and applied it against the Prime’s abdomen, covering it with his own. “It’s going to hold a part of you inside him… or her, just as it will hold one part of me. And honestly, I hope it’ll take more after you than after me,” he said very seriously, to the surprise of everyone. Bumblebee made another choking sound, Blurr tilted his head to the side, Ratchet’s jaw hung open and Jazz’s visor flashed briefly.

“You… you do?” Sentinel stammered, unsure. Well, that was new. Given how well liked he was by about everyone he had met or worked with so far -- and Sentinel held no illusion about that, he just tried to not care much, as it wouldn’t change anything if he did, and it wasn’t relevant to the quality of his work anyway -- he would have thought Bulkhead was actually praying that the Bitlet would take after him.

“Well, yeah,” Bulkhead said as he slowly stroked Sentinel’s abdomen. “I mean, he… or she’d grow to be quite beautiful if he or she’d take after you. I mean, I know I’m not most bots dreambot. You, on the other end, could really be a model for these flashy commercials we see on the television networks,” he said, nuzzling Sentinel.

“... Thank. I guess,” Sentinel mumbled. Oh yeah, he could picture it; if he had a Sparkling, it would be kinder to the little thing if he took after him and not his Sire…Frag, he didn’t want to think about what that parasite was going to look like! It was counterproductive to his resolve to have it aborted… and it might be exactly what Bulkhead had been aiming at. Which was stupid, because he certainly wasn’t intelligent enough to manipulate Sentinel… or so he hoped.

The green mech wasn’t finished. “So you don’t want to have to raise it, and I guess I understand why, since you’re so nervous and you want to be Magnus and you can’t if you have a Sparkling, because it would be time consuming and you need to spend your time working if you want to really become the Magnus, but it’s okay,” he babbled. “I’ll take care of it once it’s born and we’re back on Cybertron, alright? You’ll just need to come and visit him from time to time, ‘cause you’re his Carrier and I’m sure he or she’d like to get to know you, but I’m sure I can raise the Bitlet right while you work on your career. I’ll… I’ll even quit the Autobots to raise him or her if I have to, so I can always keep our little one with me and you’re not forced to babysit when you have more important things to do. I’ll make sure the Bitlet is alright and we’ll not be a bother, and perhaps you’ll grow to like him or her too?” he asked hopefully.

Sentinel paused, lying still in Bulkhead’s arms. Whatever the oaf was sputtering about sounded… almost good. First off, he was fully acknowledging that their lives would part once they were back on Cybertron, which they should never had left in the first place. Second, he was offering to fully raise the newspark, with only minimum efforts from Sentinel, even going as far as proposing to leave his job just to be a full-time creator. The Prime… might just be able to use it to better his image, he supposed. If he played his cards right… The working Carrier, the dotting Sire and the bitlet, safely cared for and loved… seen by the medias, showing the family-mech side of Sentinel Magnus. Of course, he’d need Bulkhead in the same apartment building if he wanted it to work, but nobody had said they needed to live together… close enough to each other was sufficient. Like, a floor or two away, where he wouldn’t have to see the oaf and the parasite every solar cycle…

“That… might be envisageable,” he allowed, feeling a weight lifting off his spark. Bulkhead just smiled goofily and there were nods from the oaf’s team mates and Jazz, who looked happier… though Blurr stayed quiet and blank. For some reason, it struck Sentinel.

“Wow, and here I thought it only happened in drama-filled holovids,” Bumblebee mumbled.

Sentinel glared. “Something to add, Bumbler?” he asked with a snarl.

“Chill, SP,” the Cyberninja chuckled as he placed himself between the two mechs. “Bumblebee doesn’t know when to keep quiet, don’t take him too seriously,” he said, giving a look to the yellow Minibot, who pouted and turned his head to the side, arms crossed over his chest.

Well, it was good to see that Jazz had some authority on the little miscreant, but Sentinel’s dislike of the yellow nuisance had barely abated. Glancing at Blurr, he smirked. He just had the thing to rile him up. “Say, how is the dating going between you and Blurr?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Bumblebee’s cheeks reddened as he sputtered, but Blurr stayed calm and collected, a small smile on his lips. “Quite fine, Sentinel. I’ve already taken Bumblebee on several dates, mostly to the Race Tracks of Tyger Pax, though we have planned for a trip on Velocitron in the coming orn. I’ve also managed to take him on a more serious outing to the Rust Sea, spending some time on the beaches. And, of course, we visited some of the famous landmarks scattered on Cybertron. Actually, we went on a double date with Ratchet and Optimus. I must admit that our medic knows more anecdotes and more of their history than I. Optimus was quite fascinated by the details,” he said, nodding at Ratchet, who scoffed.

Sentinel blinked. “Wait, date? Optimus and the rust bucket? I knew Optimus liked antiquities, but seriously?”

“The antiquity is quite able to hear you, and were you not Carrying, he would let you get well acquainted with his favorite wrench,” the old mech warned, optics whiter in anger. Bulkhead just smiled.

“It’s good to know the two of you are giving it a try! Is the interfacing going alright?” he asked.

Bumblebee shuttered his optics and Jazz just chuckled. “Funny, Prowl asked exactly the same question when he learned about it. Except he was a bit more vocal and wanted to know how many times and in which positions, and if it was true medics were great lovers.” Ratchet’s cheeks flushed and Bulkhead’s laugh boomed.

Sentinel almost choked; there were things he didn’t need to imagine and know about. Optimus in the same berth as the crotchety relic from the Great War was one of them. Not that Sentinel didn’t have respect for bots who had fought the Cons at the time, really! Ultra Magnus was great… even if he needed to let the title and position go to someone younger! Kup Minor, their old Drill Sergeant, was another bot for who he held admiration. But Ratchet… the mech just rubbed him the wrong way. And he looked to have aged almost twice as much as half the mechs who had lived the same troubles. For a medic, he wasn’t very good at taking care of himself… Then again, maybe that was what Optimus loved about him. The mech was a bleeding spark who loved to take care of smaller or weaker lifeforms. Point with the humans… and their team pet, the somehow-Cybertronian girl with creepy organic parts.

“It is none of your business,” Ratchet grumbled, “but for your informations, things are going quite well between us. Optimus even managed to… relax and actually smile and laugh for the first time in orns,” he stated.

Uh? There was something Sentinel hadn’t been told about here. Why would Optimus feel depressed? After that thing with Megatron, he was hailed a hero by about everyone! Less informed bots even thought he would become the next Magnus! Not that he ever would, because as Sentinel stated, Optimus was a bleeding spark. He cared too much, and about the wrong things for a politician or a Elite Guard officer. Not that he wouldn’t make a good officer, given the proper training, Sentinel allowed mentally, with reluctance. But he couldn’t become Magnus, because he didn’t have the shoulders for that. Rodimus Prime was better than him in most aspect, and yet he was still not the kind of bot the politicians wanted as Magnus. Sentinel was… or had been. Damn, he so needed to repair his tarnished reputation and soon, before they passed him over for someone else!

“Anyway,” the medic added, “if you really want to turn the conversation to interfacing, why don’t you ask Blurr and Bumblebee? I’m sure you’ll learn all sort of details. And Jazz? If I ever hear you and Prowl did anything while he still is convalescing, I swear to Primus I’ll weld your aft to the underside of Omega Supreme before we launch,” he warned, optics narrowed. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal, my mech,” the black and white mech said, saluting.

Jazz and the organic-loving Cyberninja? Okay, when did that happen, Sentinel thought, blinking, even as Bumblebee yelped Blurr coughed and let slip a polite question about how Ratchet knew, which lead to a ‘Omega Supreme is always quite aware of what is going on inside him’, to the utter embarrassment of the duo. Good. Let’s someone else be the guy everyone laughed about for once.

And he did just that. His spark felt lighter, and for a moment, he just forgot about his predicament, his growing frustration with his lack of progresses on finally discovering the spies and Decepticons on Agri III and his general unhappiness at living in the Pit -- okay, Agri III wasn’t exactly the Pit. Sentinel would have probably just liked it better if he had been a Conjunx, admired by all for his strength, and not a lowly Repair mech’s submissive mate.

Rest of the meeting went about normally. They shared the lack of progresses they had made, the few false leads they had followed and their results, the lack of clear signals in the area… Blurr listened and nodded and encouraged them, while Bumblebee, Jazz and Ratchet listened, sipping on oil and nibbling on treats, and sometimes asked for details. Well, Bumblebee did not actively participate in anything except refueling, but Jazz -- who expressed a fondness for the treats Sentinel had made -- and the medic did took their report seriously.

“... and I trust you’ll have made more progresses by the next time we come,” Blurr said quietly as they rose.

“I hope so,” Bulkhead said seriously. “Are we still expecting you in three orbital cycles?”

“No, no, sooner than that. The Jettwins won’t stand being away from Sentinel for so long,” the light blue mech said.

Curiously, it helped lift Sentinel’s mood. If the Twins needed him so much, then Cybertron would assuredly bring him back to Cybertron as soon as possible, of only so he could rule them in. In that case, their attachment to him might be a very good thing indeed…

“Sentinel, how about you go lie down for a nap? I’ll tell them goodbye and I’ll clean up the table, ok?” Bulkhead asked him, and Sentinel nodded, heading for the stairs. A nap sounded fine. Now that his fuel tank was full, he was getting tired. A quick recharge would help, he had learned as much in the few decacycles since Counterstep had confirmed the ‘joyful’ news.

He didn’t even pay attention as Jazz, Bumblebee and Ratchet all went outside while Blurr and Bulkhead spoke quietly in a corner. As such, he totally missed the conversation they held.

“Were you serious? About going back to Cybertron and leaving your job as Space Bridge technician to take care of your sparkling once it’s born?”

Bulkhead shrugged. “Well, yes, if there isn’t another option. Sure, I’d rather like continue living here, because I’m just realizing how much I had missed it, the farm life. But Sentinel isn’t… well, he isn’t fine right now, and he’s really attached to his job. I don’t want him to abort, I want that little one, and I want him to be happy. I want them both to be happy, the bitlet and Sentinel. Granted, Sentinel being, well, Sentinel, he’s never happy, but he thinks he is when he’s trying to be Magnus, so…”

Blurr looked at him for a moment. “You love him?”

It made the large green mech pause as he seemed to be deep in thought. “... I’m not sure. I like him well enough to at least care about his well-being… even if he’s a real glitch when he wants to be… or even when he’s not trying,” he said, chuckling.

“Cybertron can’t afford to lose you and your expertise on Space Bridges,” the blue mech stated. “Are you sure you wouldn’t reconsider? In some vorns, you could easily become the new head of the Space Bridges Nexus,” he insisted. “Sentinel’s career, on the other end, is… well, it is unlikely he ever reach the rank of Magnus anymore, I’m sure you have realized?” Bulkhead nodded. “He was too bold in what he did, and as he was wrong… lots of influential mechs don’t trust him anymore. He could try all he’d like, he won’t succeed Ultra now. Would you really sacrifice your own career and your happiness for him?”

Bulkhead shrugged. “I know what you’re offering, and I know you’re right, but…I don’t want to be Head of anything,” he insisted. “And if I was too blunt with Sentinel, it would only muddy the waters even more between us. If I could choose, I’d stay here, you know, farming, and I’d raise the little one here. But I won’t let him or her grow up without his or her Carrier nearby, even if Sentinel doesn’t seem to want to be involved much, so that means Cybertron is a must. I’d miss the farm for sure, and well... That doesn’t mean I want to leave Space Bridges out, of course, but… It’s complicated,” he said, shuffling.

Blurr stayed silent for a moment. “... thank you for your honest answers, Bulkhead. Say, you’re very familiar with the Space Bridge Nexus’ extension project, right?”

The green mech nodded. “Sure. Lot of engineers and technicians proposed new places to put new Space Bridges, arguing the Commonwealth could use a few more, even smaller ones, to cover the planetoid clusters between the main Bridges and along the trade roads. Last I’d heard, there were still a dozen in competition, with the most likely to win being near Junk and Daffodil II. Why? Did they finally choose one?”

Blurr shook his head. “Not that I know of. I was just curious, and I wondered if you had had news,” he said simply.

Bulkhead chuckled. “Here? Nope, sorry. The newsletters didn’t broach the subject yet, and well, we don’t get that many recent news or fast ones. This corner of the Commonwealth is a bit empty.”

Blurr nodded. “It is. Very well. I trust you’ll handle things until our next visit?”

Bulkhead nodded. “I’ll do,” he promised as he accompanied Blurr outside. He watched the four mechs he called friends transform and speed away on the dirt trail with an heavy spark. He’d have liked them to stay longer, but sadly, with only a couple of shuttles making the liaison between Agri III and the nearest Space Bridge equipped planet, there was no way they could stay the night.

With a sigh, he headed back inside to clean up. Then he’d make Sentinel a nice snack for when he’d have finished his nap; him and the sparkling would certainly be famished!


	22. Chapter 22

“Just a sip, Sentinel, remember. You can’t really drink too much high grade in your state,” Bulkhead fusses as Sentinel took a sample of Aurum-Apple Cider on a tray.

The mech handing out the samples rumbled. “Your Conjunx is perfectly right, Goodwife. A little cider or wine won’t hurt you, but try to be careful, will you?”

Sentinel grunted and reluctantly nodded. Obediently, he didn’t reach for the bigger cubes, but only took the smallest ones, which were sparkling-sized -- apparently, energon farmers weren’t against letting sparklings and younglings have a sip, so long their Creators supervised and agreed.

Typical. For once one of the energon farmers’ Festival held some appeal to him -- and didn’t involve official public fragging! -- he just couldn’t enjoy it at its fullest because of the parasite growing inside him, and because high grade, no matter which form it took, wasn’t recommended for expecting Carriers.

Too bad; getting overcharged would have been very, very tempting. Energon farmers weren’t against the consumption of high grade energon in various forms, their favorite ones seeming to be the Crystalberries Wine and the Boron-Beer -- something Sentinel seldom tasted, for even though it was a local delicacy, there was no productor of Boron-Beer in the village and their relationship with the nearest were rather strained, though he hadn’t been told why. Their taste for highly concentrated fuel, however, didn’t meant they didn’t frown at someone consuming too much.

High grade was good in moderation, or so they praised. Despite that, they loved trying new recipes, new way of distilling, and new tastes. Which was the basis for the annual ‘Brewster Festival’ the town held. From nearby villages to less nearby towns, dozens of amateurs or professional brewsters came to present, sell or exchange their products, all of them very tempting to the Prime.

Aurum-Apple Cider, Molten or Hydrogen-Mead, Blond Boron-Beer, Beryl-Brandy, Argon-Pears wine, Ovoid-Oranges or Cobalt-Cherries’ liquors... There were many to choose from, and Sentinel really regretted he couldn’t indulge himself like he’d have wanted.

The smells and the varieties kinda reminded him of the drinks sold at Maccadam’s; now, Sentinel liked their drinks, but their tolerance for any patrons had just been too dangerous! Surely, somebot should have realized that? But of course not; bots only grumbled about the (temporary) closure and the Prime had been told in no uncertain terms he wasn’t welcomed anymore in the (in)famous bar. Or any bar in general on Cybertron. And Sentinel liked his drinks! Brewster Festival was the first time in several orbital cycles he was close to so many high grade brands, and he wasn’t allowed to indulge.

Frag it all. Someone up there really hated him, there was no explication possible otherwise.

He tried to savor the Aurum-Apple cider, but with only a small mouthful, it was very hard to get an accurate taste and energy reading. Bulkhead loomed near him worriedly. “Do you like? I can order a case if you want more, once the little one is born. Would you like that?”

Sentinel tried to smile, if only for the benefice of the brewster/seller. “That’s alright,... darling. I’d like to try other drinks before we decide. I’m sure you won’t mind?”

“Well, so long you’re careful,” Bulkhead allowed. “Come along, Love, you need some rest. There’s a bench near by,” he added, taking Sentinel’s arm and leading him away with a small nod toward the vendor, who bowed in turn as he saw them go away.

Sentinel tried to yank his arm free, but without insisting too much when it became clear Bulkhead was reluctant to release him. Indeed, the green mech was watching him like a cyber-hawk and seemed to panic the moment Sentinel wasn’t in sight anymore. “Frankly, you’re ridiculous,” he mumbled. “I’m fine, and I can walk without help.”

“... I know,” Bulkhead mumbled. “I guess I’m just a tad worried. I mean… you’re Carrying. It’s official now. I guess… I guess it sunk in again, and I can’t help myself.”

“Yes, it’s official, and it has been for three decacycles now since we know,” Sentinel pointed out. “I don’t see why you’re having another panic attack. Pit, I should be the one panicking, I’m the one who’s Carrying it in spite of myself,” he groused.

“You weren’t wearing a maternity dress before,” Bulkhead pointed out. “It’s just… it enforces the idea even more. And… I think you look pretty in it,” he said, rubbing his helm.

Sentinel’s lips pursed as he glanced down at his current dress. True enough, it was one with the standard cut for carrying mechas. Technically, he wouldn’t start developing a… larger abdomen until later in the process, but Enduras tended to start wearing them as soon as it became official they were heavy with a newspark. So the Prime had had little choice and had changed wardrobe from now on. In a way, he found it humiliating. He didn’t want to have to show the world he was sparked, damnit!

Then again… it had advantages too, he thought as visitors and strangers went out of their way to let him pass through and saluted him, and how vendors selling small confections such as fried pastries handed him free ones, smiling and congratulating him for his good fortune. The sweets weren’t half bad, he decided, but it was the high grade he really wanted. Well, if Bulkhead was really offering to buy him cases… Perhaps it was time he created a wine cellar. Let’s the oaf buy and carry the cases; Sentinel would be the one to enjoy them the moment the sparkling had popped out.

“There, sit down, Sentinel,” Bulkhead said, helping him sit down on the metal bench, despite Sentinel being perfectly able to do so alone. Really, he thought in annoyance, it was getting tiresome. “Is there anything you would like? Pastries, perhaps? There’s also non-high grade drinks being served at the Brewsters Yeast and Wort’s stall, would you like me to bring you one?”

“I can walk just fine, Bulkhead,” he deadpanned, trying to rise.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no! You stay here and you rest!” Bulkhead insisted. Sentinel refrained himself to swear and let his body sag. Well, why the Pit not, after all? If the oaf wanted to go back and forth between the stalls and the rest area, then who was Sentinel to stop him? Eh, he could even send him on additional errands, just to have more quiet…

“Alright,” Sentinel nodded. “You bring me a dozen Cobalt-Cherries tartlets, and a pot of Ovoid-Orange marmalade. Oh, and if I’m allowed another sample of high-grade, no matter which, I’d like that too,” he added. “If not, an Ovoid-Orange juice or an Argon-Apricot juice will be fine,” he decided.

Bulkhead nodded eagerly. “I’ll bring you everything you want. Just don’t go wander off and rest,” he said with a quick kiss on Sentinel’s forehead before he rushed away to get Sentinel’s order.

Sentinel watched him go with a blank look on his face. As overbearing as Bulkhead was, the Prime had to admit his mother hen attitude was… refreshing in some way. The oaf took care of cooking most meal, and insisted to do the cleaning of the house himself, as well as taking care of the mechanimals, too afraid Sentinel would get injured or abuse of his strengths. Which was stupid and made the Prime scoff, but at the same time… Well, he was all for not having to do these chores anymore.

All he had to do if his days was lounging in the berth or in the couch… and spread his legs each time Bulkhead said it was time to give some transfluid for the Sparkling’s protoform. It happened far too often to Sentinel’s taste… and not often enough at the same time, strangely. His body literally craved the interfaces, and well… overloading was nice. Being filled, stuffed full, taken again and again by a careful, devoted lover who was watching him as if he was Primus himself was definitely turning him on, in more than one way. Not that he would tell Bulkhead that, of course.

Lounging comfortably on the bench, Sentinel shuttered his optics and just listened to the noises around him. The rest area -- which was only a few benches and tables put together for people needing a break from the drinking -- was empty aside of him. Everybody had gone to listen to Mayor Levitacus ‘thank you’ speech as well as to see the results of the ‘best brew of the year’ contest that had started earlier today. There would be a general distribution from the winner’s winning ale right after, and nobody wanted to miss it, it seemed. So Sentinel could rest far away from well-wishers and overprotective Conjunx.

Or at least, he had thought so.

“... thievery! And… should know… it!”

“Shh! Someone… hear you!”

Sentinel’s optics came back online instantly as his audio receptors increased their range, trying to reperate where the sound came from. Thievery? A secret conversation? While not having real links with the Decepticons -- for now -- it certainly seemed to be something of interest. One of the voice was perfectly unknown, but the other… it was familiar. His audio overworked to pick up the direction and focus on the sounds of conversation, but even like that, he could only hear half of the words. Either there were rather far, or there was something foul going on.

“... got the money, no?”

“... not… problem… Infos… reliable?... sure of you?”

“Pretty… got three… best I could… on such… notice…”

“Nobody… suspicious?”

“Naw… been doing that… vorns. Nobody…”

“... fragging good… actor… best… spy… never caught?”

“... never. Almost… seen… new mechs… town… head and Sent… had to…”

“... problems…?”

“Had to… change…”

Spy! ‘head and Sent’, so in truth, Bulkhead and Sentinel! Someone mentioning them in conversation with ‘almost caught’! Yes! Sentinel felt giddier. From all accounts, it sounded like the famous spy they had been tracking down was finally in their reach! Someone who may had unmasked them… or who had been forced to change his habits due to their arrival on a formely empty, secluded property! He knew it! He just knew it!

“Sentinel?”

The Prime startled and yelped in fright as he turned to see Bulkhead standing right next to him, holding a tray generously overcharged with energon pastries, cubes of oils and glowing liquids and even a small bowl full of an oily sludge in which a spoon was holding straight.

The gree mech looked at him in surprise. “Hey, no need to panic! I just bought you your snacks, like you told me to! I even took you extras! There were a stand selling Oil Fudge, and I just couldn’t let it pass. Oh, and I’ve also taken you a couple of fresh Aurum-Apples, it’s full of good minerals for you and the sparkling…”

“Never mind the snack, you oaf!” he snapped as he tried to catch more snippets of the conversation, but everything had gone silent. Frag it!

“No need to be so nervous,” Bulkhead said, frowning, as he put the tray down on the bench next to Sentinel.

“There is every need to be nervous! I was finally getting infos on the spy we’re seeking and you blew it up!”

“Uh?” Bulkhead blinked. Sentinel facepalmed and quickly told him about what he had overheard. Bulkhead sat next to him and frowned. “You’re really sure of what you heard?”

“Of course I am,” the Prime groused. “I could have learned more if you hadn’t chosen that moment to…”

“To bring you fuel you obviously needed,” Bulkhead pointed out, and Sentinel blinked, looking down, before his cheeks started to flush. Sure enough, he had holding half of a tartlet in hand, there was a familiar taste in his mouth, and several goodies were already missing from the tray. He had gobbled them down without even noticing.

… Perhaps some of Bulkhead’s mother henning wasn’t unfounded, he thought dimly.

“Right,” the Prime coughed, before narrowing his optics. “But your appearance startled me and I couldn’t recognize the voice. I…” he paused, thinking. “Say, did you notice who was missing earlier when they announced the results of the contest?” Because someone had had to; Bulkhead had told him everyone came to hear them, as to not miss the free degustation afterward. But obviously, since it was happening around the time Sentinel had picked on the secret exchange, then Bulkhead might noticed someone missing.

The green mech frowned, deep in thought. “Well, Sister Ara wasn’t here… but I’ve heard she never comes; she had high grade of any form in horror and highly disapprove of the Brewster Festival.”

Sentinel shook his head. “No, it wasn’t the voice of a femme. Anyone else?”

“Well, Apis wasn’t here, but since you said it couldn’t be a Femme. I haven’t see Churn or Clearway --” and Sentinel could guess why; they probably were having another secret meeting “ -- some of the other younglings were also not around...Yoke didn’t leave his stall because he was overseeing something… oh, and Stillbarrel didn’t come because he had to return to his farm for…”

Sentinel didn’t listen to the explanation. Stillbarrel… yes, thinking back about the voice and its inflexions, the Prime was certain it was him he had overheard.

Stillbarrel… yes, thinking about it, it might makes sense. Foggy Bottom had a quick access to the woods, it would be easy to go from a point to another without being seen… And the rare times he had come at Shady Acres, he hadn’t seemed to be very at lost with the ground surrounding the farm. Slag, he had already crossed him off of the official suspects list because it had seemed impossible for him to be a spy, given his family would have suspected something!

Yes, but if the family was working with him… he could very well use his sparklings to gather intel without being suspected. Nobody saw anything wrong in speaking to a sparkling, and the most charming ones could wrap people around their servos like nothing, pushing people to speak to them without a care…

Oh, yes, it made so much sense!

His spark beat faster in its chamber. If he could prove it… finally, he’d be able to leave before another calamity befall him!

In retrospect, he should have learned not to speak too soon.

“Sentinel? There’re dirty spots on your dress,” Bulkhead said carefully, breaking the Prime out of his thoughts. Sentinel, without looking, waved it off.

“Oh, it’s probably crumbs or drops of energon,” he said, not really worried and still trying to focus on Stillbarrel and the best way to investigate him. Could he still do that with his pregnancy? He knew he was able to, but would Bulkhead even allow him to try. The mech was overprotective enough already, if Sentinel spoke of spending a night outside or climbing up a tree to get a good look and a good hiding place, he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it…

Bulkhead shuffled nervously. “Uh, I think it’s energon alright, but… It’s coming from your chest, and the spots are growing,” he pointed out.

Sentinel froze and carefully, slowly looked down at his chest. Sure enough, the yellow fabric of his dress was adorned with two big, growing stains of a purplish color. Sentinel blinked. Stayed silent and staring for almost a cycle.

Then he screamed his head off.

***************************

“But you’re sure it’s perfectly normal?” Bulkhead asked once again, worried. Counterstep sighed as Sentinel remained frozen in his spot, trying to make sense of what was happening to him.

“Yes, Bulkhead, early sparkling-grade energon production is frequent in Carriers. Granted, in Sentinel’s case, it might be happening orbital cycles sooner than the norm, but it isn’t so rare when a mech around Sentinel’s age is expecting for the first time. Particularly when he’s expecting twins…”

“Wait, WHAT?” Sentinel suddenly shouted as the medic’s words registered. His jaw hung open in shock and dawning horror. Not one parasite, but two?! Really?! Twins… Pit, if spending time with the Jettwins had somewhat caused that -- which was highly improbable, and reasonable impossible -- then he was going to strangle them both… after he strangled Bulkhead and ripped out his spike, of course.

Bulkhead himself felt a measure of shock, for he just collapsed in his seat. “Twins? You’re sure?”

“Assuredly,” Counterstep told them. “You remember these worries I had, about your little one’s fluctuating spark readings? It turns out they were caused by the splitting of the spark. Although I had encountered the case before, I must admit it didn’t occur to me on the moment. It’s after all very rare a Carrier get pregnant with twins during his first gestational period. You both must be so proud and happy,” he commented with a small grin.

Bulkhead beamed and nodded readily. Sentinel, him… remained perfectly immobile, a strange grimace on his face, somewhere between a smile and dumbfound horror. Bulkhead took his hand with reverence.

“Twins, Love, isn’t that wonderful?” The look in Sentinel’s optics clearly stated it was all but wonderful, however he didn’t say anything. His vocalizer was still glitching, it seemed.

Counterstep coughed. “Anyway, now that the production has started in earnest, it will not stop. Each time there’ll be an excess of sparkling-grade energon, it will… well, it will leak, for lack of better term. Your chestplates may or may not part, but your pouches will be full and in dire need to be emptied in some way,” he explained gently to Sentinel, guessing the poor mech must have felt ill-at-ease and very overwhelmed by the changes his body went through.

By curiosity, he had consulted a couple of notes on Cybertron’s inhabitants and their medical issues as well as reproductive habits. Poor bots who seemed unable to get more than one or two sparklings… Though it certainly was through no fault of their own, Counterstep thought. There were cultural elements in the way, after all, and probably some elements he could only guess at, but health-wise? Sentinel was the living proof their reproductive protocols were in perfect working order, perhaps just a bit slow to kick in compared to a born and raised energon farmer.

That said, the general populace knowledge on Carrying cycles was almost risible. Most of them, since they didn’t spark, never bothered to learn and as such had no real knowledge of minerals supplements, or of more sensitive and important details like the intern sparkling-grade energon production. Sentinel might not even had been aware he had energon pouches to feed his future sparklings before coming here, and the Doctor doubted Bulkhead had tipped him on that. After all, it was something that was hardly mentioned in polite company, especially during a courtship.

From the look on Sentinel’s face, even if he had been aware he had them, he probably had never thought much about their use. Counterstep had to refrain himself to just go and pat him in sympathy.

For his part, the Prime took a deep breath, trying to keep quiet and calm, even though his CPU was in pandemonium. He kept picturing Apis feeding her newspark right after the sparkling’s emergence, that little mouth suckling on parts he had never heard of and never seen and could have lived without seeing… And to think he had had that, in a layer between his outer chest plating and his spark chamber! Too late to have them taken out, though. He was forced to deal with it… He didn’t want or had time to deal with it! He needed to go stop Decepticons, not play nursebot to sparklings… even his!

“What can I do about… about that, then?” he asked with a shaky voice.

“Well,” Counterstep started, “the simplest way would be for you to use a special pump to milk it out when the pouches are full…” It made Sentinel bristle; who did the medic thought he was, a ChronoCow?! Counterstep coughed at the look on his faceplates. “Or… well, some couples rather like it… It’s a bit unusual, of course, but accepted and sometimes encouraged…” he trailed off.

“What?” Sentinel asked, with the sudden feeling he wasn’t going to like it at all.

“... Well, you could have Bulkhead suckle it from you,” Counterstep finally offered. Sentinel sputtered and Bulkhead blushed, though he did look interested. The Doctor couldn’t blame him; after all, he himself had done so with Sterling during his Endura’s second and third carrying cycle… For Sentinel’s benefice, he added. “It is thought to be less uncomfortable and awkward as the pump. And well, it would certainly be easier on your feeding nubs. They’re bound to grow very sensitive if you use the pump too much or too long, and having a mouth suckling out the excess fluids would be better for them. It can also lead to some… very interesting times in the berth,” he offered, trying to make Sentinel see the positive sides of such an arrangement.

Obviously, it didn’t quite work. Sentinel’s face remained frozen in an expression of horrified disbelief. Was the Doctor serious? Nononononono! No way he was ever doing that! He would just… he would just wipe the leaking energon out each time it was needed! He… he would put rags in between his outer chestplates layer and the depressurized pouches! That should be enough, right?

Glancing at Bulkhead, he saw the green mech sitting still, nervously licking his lips. Sentinel’s optics narrowed. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned. Bulkhead seemed to deflate a bit even as Counterstep coughed.

“Now, Sentinel, I know it might be a bit… shocking for you, but I really think you ought to let him do that. After all, you have little experience with your feeding systems and their use and sensibility, right? As such, some experience before the birth of your sparkling may be best…” he paused as he saw Sentinel glare at him, and he shrugged. “Well, that’s what I think, at any rate. I’ll let you think about that. For now, I can only tell you to go home and rest. I’ll give you a pump just in case,” he added for Bulkhead as he went to his desk.

Sentinel growled a bit. “I don’t want a freaking pump!”

Counterstep watched him without flinching. “What you want and what you might need are two different things, I’m afraid. For now, I can only tell you to consider these two options. Rags to absorb the fluids won’t work very well, for you’ll have to change them almost constantly; your body will just continue to overproduce, as it won’t get any signal its producing too much, whereas getting the sparkling-grade energon pumped out or directly drunk will help to decrease the flux and bring it back to normal,” he explained carefully, trying to make sure Bulkhead’s Endura understood the point.

Sentinel looked a bit crestfallen. Counterstep pursed his lips. Obviously, Sentinel wasn’t too kin on the idea of having his energon sucked out by anyone but his sparkling… or any sparklings, really. Hmm… “There might be another possibility,” he said carefully. “I could see if anyone in the nearby village needs a wetnurse.”

“A wetnurse?” Sentinel asked warily. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that…

Bulkhead coughed. “It’s… well, it’s someone hired to suckle another Carrier’s sparkling. When the Carrier doesn’t have sparkling-grade energon of his own to give, or not enough. Couples with twins often hire one, especially if the Carrier is small,” he explained, cheeks flushed. Sentinel felt like getting red in the face himself. Were they really suggesting he should…?

Counterstep nodded. “I haven’t heard of anyone needing one yet, but I can always ask. An Endura expecting twins and already having plenty of energon for his future little ones would be quickly hired by anyone, I’m sure. You’ll become quite popular in no time,” he assured Sentinel with a smile.

The Prime wasn’t convinced at all as Bulkhead and Counterstep talked and they were politely walked back to the door of the office. In fact, he was the opposite of convinced, but he just couldn’t say that out loud to the medic, could he? Not noticing his conflicted feelings -- or choosing to address them later in Bulkhead’s case, who knew? -- his Conjunx and the Doctor were talking about his health and diet... and the necessity for Bulkhead to not decrease his transfluid donations at all, since with twins in the making, they certainly would keep needing a lot of nanites to build their protoforms. The comment made Sentinel’s valve throb as he grimaced. Just what he had wanted to hear… he thought with sarcasm.

He sighed, looking at the ceiling with a displeased expression. First he was sparked. Then he was discovering he was sparked with TWINS! Then his systems were starting to act up and mess with him, and he couldn’t do anything to make them stop. What was going to happen to him next?

************************

“Uhh… ahh, yes, like that… hmm… oooh, Bulkhead, don’t stop,” the Prime moaned as Bulkhead thrusted in him, his valve clenching hard around his Conjunx’s spike. Hand firmly grasping the bigger mech’s shoulders, legs on either side of his lover, he panted as he taken again.

A part of his processor thought he should mind; after all, getting flat on his back and pounded into like that lacked dignity. The rest of him… didn’t care so long the green mech didn’t stop what he was doing. His valve rippled in pleasure around the thick member stretching his valve so wide it would have been painful if Bulkhead hadn’t just know how to make it good.

Sentinel almost keened as he felt the rush of fluids inside him, indicating it was already over. Almost. He was still had some pride left -- and had managed, over time, to regain some of his senses despite being fragged almost out of his mind every slagging time. He would go and beg Bulkhead or another round. Nope. He hadn’t sunk that low. Even if he was wiggling his aft in a silent plea to get more. Nope, he wasn’t going addicted or whatever. Not at all. Lucky Bulkhead wasn’t good at nonverbal communication and that he took time to gather his strengths and mind after their third afternoon interface session.

Currently, the oaf was just lying atop of him, optics shuttered and vents working hard to cool down his frame, pinning Sentinel under him to the berth. One of his hands was, by a reflex he had acquired the moment he had learned Sentinel was carrying, pressed against the Prime’s abdomen, lightly stroking it. He hadn’t taken the time to pull his spike out of Sentinel yet, and the Prime hesitated in asking him to.

Laying like that wasn’t so bad, he supposed… if it wasn’t for the rivulet of fluid which kept oozing out of a seam in his chest armor. Sentinel felt very faint at seeing it, again. So far, he had dealt with it as he could, mainly with rags, because he steadily refused the very notion of having someone ‘milk’ him or suckling from him, but the rags use were… not very efficient, he had to admit.

The fluid was starting to form a small puddle on his chest, small rivulets starting to spread in different direction making the Prime grimace as he realized he was good for more time in the bathroom to clean this mess. Bulkhead’s optics lighted as his olfactive sensor took notice of the scent of fuel so close to his face, and even without turning his head, he knew instantly what it was.

“You’re leaking again,” he rumbled softly. Sentinel didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. “Want me to get the pump?” he asked, only for Sentinel to growl in a low tone, which made Bulkhead sigh. “Seriously, why do you keep being so stubborn? You saw for yourself rags didn’t work. So either you use the pump, or...”

“Don’t want to,” the Prime grumbled as he wiggled once again, trying to distract the green mech and change the subject.

It didn’t quite work. Bulkhead didn’t comment, but he shifted and turned his head, so he could look at Sentinel with a disapproving frown. After a moment of looking at his Endura in silence -- and still keeping his spike nestled deeply in his lover -- he lowered his gaze to watch the fluid slowly pooling on the Prime’s armor. He licked his lips and dived down suddenly, lips and glossa mouthing the wet area and greedily sucking the liquid off, deaf to Sentinel startled yelp and protestations.

“Bulkhead! Stop that right now!” he shouted, trying to push the Space Bridge technician off, with little success considering his weight the way he was pinning him down. He grunted and ranted, but Bulkhead wasn’t deterred, busy to lick of every single drop of sweet fuel he could and humming in pleasure as he did so. The Prime’s struggles slowly stopped as he realized he just couldn’t throw the other mech off, and… well, the licks on his plating were making his engines revv for some reason. His frame was heating, and his valve started to lubricate again.

What was wrong with him?

Bulkhead rumbled. “Open,” he said in a deep, commanding voice.

Open what? Sentinel thought dumbly even as, by reflex and to his surprise, his chestplates parted, revealing the… these… feeding lines he had previously observed on Apis. He couldn’t help to stare at them as he took sight of the two previously flat pouches -- as they had been compressed by the armor -- starting to rapidly fill and swell up with a glowing purplish energon mix, little nubs standing straight at their top, drops of liquid falling at their edge and rolling down on him. Logically, he knew he had had them, but seeing them for real… he didn’t know if he was fragging terrified or in dumb acceptance. Whatever it was, it felt creepy.

Smiling, Bulkhead was nuzzling one of the filled pouches with a rev, obviously happy. “They’re so large already! Our Sparklings will have plenty to drink,” he said with a grin. Sentinel looked crossly at him, wondering if he should feel offended for the comments about the size of his pouches… though he had to admit it was true, they were indeed larger than Apis’ owns, from what he could see…

“Lucky them,” he tried to snap, but without real heat -- he supposed he was in some sort of shock. He tried to wiggled away once again, only to stop short with a moan as his moves only served to make Bulkhead’s spike shift inside him and stroke his oversensitized valve nodes. Bulkhead himself grunted a bit.

“Calm, Love,” he said as he rubbed his cheek against one of full pouches. “I’m going to suckle a bit, okay?”

“Absolutely not!” Sentinel sputtered. “I told you before I didn’t want to…!”

“Think of it as training for our future Sparklings,” Bulkhead chided him before he delicately took one of the nubs in his mouth and started to pressure it, almost purring as warm energon mix startled to fill his mouth. Hmm, it was just as good as he remembered it. Ever since he had been a sparkling, he had longed for another taste. Their sparklings would be spoiled: the generous amount aside, Sentinel was definitely producing good quality energon. Their twins could only thrive with such good nutriments! He could already picture them, running around on the farm ground, with him and Sentinel watching them fondly from the veranda, Sentinel in his laps, riding his spike as they took a break from a long work day, the Prime wearing a lovely CaesiumSilk dress and moaning in ecstasy as Bulkhead made him love and filled him with more transfluid, perhaps making their twins a sibling to play with…

The very thought made him hard again, his spike stretching Sentinel wider and making the Prime keen at the onslaught of sensations coming from both his valve and his sensitive nubs. Feeling the fluid gushing out of the pouch as Bulkhead suckled was weird, but not exactly unpleasant. Still, he didn’t think he liked it… or perhaps he did… it was so confusing! And Sentinel hated to be confused about anything!

“You taste so good,” Bulkhead mumbled as he let the nub slide out of his mouth a moment, looking at Sentinel in obvious fondness. “Best Endura’s ever,” he mumbled again as he dived back and took hold of the second nub, starting to drain the other pouch, even as Sentinel blushed. The abandoned nub was still sensitive to the cold air, but it wasn’t oozing fluid anymore, Sentinel noticed, and that was fine by him.

By reflex, he put his hands on either side of Bulkhead’s helm and held his head steadily, even as his legs tied themselves around his Conjunx’s waist. The green mech didn’t interrupt his suckling for a moment. The Prime moaned softly at the sensations he still registered. He still wasn’t sure he’d ever like it or get used to it, but at least, the fluids seemed to be drained steadily, so he was willing to give it a try… for now.

**********************

“I don’t think I’ll be able to ever thank you enough,” Pollen said, beaming, as he gently put Brasspetal into Sentinel’s arms. The Prime gulped nervously, his grip on the small body very awkward. Frag, he had never held someone so little, how as he supposed to do it without hurting him? Because he knew -- and everybody knew -- that sparklings were fragile little things and that they needed to be held with precautions when they were young and vulnerables!

Thankfully, Pollen caught up on his trouble and gently helped him to move his hands so he had a steady grip on the three orbital cycles young newspark. Sentinel still felt awkward, but at least his hold was steadier and, hopefully, more comfortable for the bitlet… who was presently looking at him with wide blue optics. His little pale yellow helm was tilted to the side as he tried to make sense of the stranger holding him. Had his Carrier’s comforting field not surrounded him, he would have felt like crying. Brasspetal wasn’t an happy sparkling. He was hungry, and no matter how much he pressed against Carrier’s chest, there was no more yummy fluid coming out. And he didn’t like the other fluids Carrier tried to give him, they made his tummy upset and he spit them back out as fast as he could!

Yes, Brasspetal was a miserable newspark.

But Carrier was here, he could see his face next to the one of the strange big mech with a very large chin, and Carrier was smiling, so it had to be okay, some way.

He didn’t understand much of what big bots said, aside of his name, so he didn’t get what they were saying, but suddenly, there was big amounts of yummy fluids just in reach on the stranger’s chest, and Brasspetal cooed happily, little hands reaching greedily. The stranger held him close -- and not right, not like Carrier -- and let him latch on one of the yummy fuel’s source, and Brasspetal started to suckle in delight. Yummy yummy yummy! Even more yummy than Carrier’s own! And it didn’t make his tummy ache! Optics shuttered, feeling more content than in he didn’t know when, Brasspetal fed, just happy to have yummy food and Carrier close by.

Sentinel watched the sparkling voraciously attach himself to his pouch with a frozen look of horror on his face. The little mouth was gripping his nub firmly and suckling for dear life and he was struggling against the violent desire to rip the sparkling away from his frame and throw him away, as if it was a bomb. Thankfully, Pollen was so busy cooing at his ‘adorable’ little one he didn’t notice, and Sentinel tried to ease himself into reluctant acceptance of the situation.

“Truly,” Pollen commented, “it is Primus who send you here. It can’t be anything else. For you to get sparked and start sparkling-grade energon production right when my own pouches dry so suddenly… it is miraculous,” the other mech said, lightly stroking his feeding Sparkling with a finger.

Sentinel tried to smile. “Right. A miracle. Right.” He coughed, trying to not stare too much at the greedy sparklet. Bulkhead suckling on his nubs three or four times hadn’t prepared him for that. Was he really going to have to endure it every solar cycle until the two parasite growing in his gestational chamber were big enough to switch to another diet? Oh, silly him, of course he would; it was impensable a proper energon farmer’s Endura fed his or her newly born offspring with anything but his or her feeding lines! Ugh. He really wasn’t looking forward to that, at all. Especially since he had learned a newspark refueled at random all along the day…

“Look at my Brasspetal,” Pollen said, smiling fondly. “I hadn’t seen him so happy since a long while. He was so hungry…” he paused and gave Sentinel a ‘sorry’ smile. “Sorry if he’s so voracious, he hadn’t been able to refuel properly in solar cycles, he was just famished. Hopefully, once he has enough, he’ll fall asleep immediately. I just hope he will not be too greedy and threw up after…”

Lovely thought. Sentinel grimace, hoping that if the little thing had to be sick, it wouldn’t be on him. “That’s alright,” he assured Pollen, though he thought it was anything but alright. “It’s not a bother.” Yes it was. “I don’t mind at all.” Oh, he did, but he couldn’t escape. Pollen had begged and begged for him to come and feed his sparkling and Bulkhead had pushed him out and frog marched him to Fruitful Orchard so he went and let the sparkling suckle from him.

_‘It’s good training for when our little ones are born,’_ Bulkhead had insisted. Good training… right! As if Sentinel had any intention to actually… breastfeed the two parasites! Once he was back on Cybertron, long before the twins’ actual emergence -- hopefully. Normally. He hoped so -- he’d do like any sensible Cybertronian and buy them specially studied and created sparkling-adequates mixes. And he’d made sure to have these… pouches removed.

Sentinel watched the little one warily once again as he noticed the sparklet was now drinking less. Hopefully, that meant he was starting to get satiated. He coughed a bit. “He… uh, he really couldn’t handle ChronoCows’ milk-energon? I thought sparklings could… That what they produced was almost always for their consumption?”

Pollen winced. “Well, normally, they can. But lots of newsparks have systems so immature they can’t actually ingest or use anything that hasn’t been filtered and enriched first by their Carriers’ bodies. Usually, their systems develop fast and they can switch to ChronoCows’ milk-energon in a matter of orbital cycles, but…” he trailed off, looking sadly at his little one. “Brasspetal’s systems haven’t developed as fast as they should have. His fuel tank is still too brittle to handle anything stronger than Carrier-produced energon, and his systems just can’t handle ChronoCows’ milk-energon well… at all.” He sighed as he put a hand to his chest. “I hadn’t planned on my own feeding lines drying up so soon this time. If they hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but…” he shrugged, miserable.

“That happens often? Feeding lines drying up?” Sentinel asked, vaguely interested. Perhaps his would, before the twins’ birth? Unlikely, he knew, but it was a hope he wanted to nurse.

Pollen thought for a moment. “No, not really. It varies from a mech to another, you could say. I’ve known Carriers who never produced much sparkling-grade energon and dried fast, and other who had more than enough for three or four sparklets at the same time and could keep it coming for a whole stellar cycle.” He smiled at Sentinel. “I think you might belong to the second category. Lucky you; your Bitlets will never miss for anything,” he said fondly as he watched Sentinel’s pouches.

“... Yeah… lucky me,” Sentinel said, voice high pitched. Unlucky him would have been closer to the truth, really. “Is he going to continue for long?” he asked worriedly, seeing that Brasspetal was still suckling.

Pollen chuckled. “It’s alright, dear. He’s enjoying himself. I’m sure he’ll have finished soon,” he said with a fond smile at the little one.

Sentinel bit back a curse and tried to settle more comfortably. It looked like he would be there for a while still…


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentinel's latest lead turns out to be false, after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Short chapter today, as well as on the 24th; after that, chapters we'll get a bit longer (I hope) as we reach toward... well, not the conclusion just yet, but we're getting closer to the end. ^^  
> Enjoy. :)

He was late.

Sentinel paced in the living room, arms crossed over his chest, and stealing little looks outside every few kliks. Of course, there wasn’t anything to see outside, only the dark of the night, without the comforting light of the moon to light it up a bit.

Another look outside. Still nothing. Fists tightening, Sentinel thought, not for the last time, that he should never had allowed Bulkhead to go alone investigate Stillbarrel and watch Foggy Bottom. Argh, he just knew the oaf had to have been found out! It was forced! Jobs like that required stealth, and Bulkhead wasn’t stealthy! The oaf was the complete opposite of stealthy! Why had he even accepted he’d go in the first place?!

… Because if he hadn’t and if Sentinel hadn’t promised to be ‘good’ and ‘patiently wait for him at home’, the larger mech had swore he would cuff him to the berth, ‘full of fluids’ and ‘nicely’ plugged so he would both rest and provide the future sparklings with plenty of nanites. As Sentinel hadn’t been keen on the idea, he had promised. Reluctantly. But he did promise, and Bulkhead had kissed him on the forehead and secured a shawl over his shoulders before disappearing into the night.

It had been megacycles ago, and he still wasn’t back! He should have been back by now! Seriously, Sentinel had never stayed away so long while doing reconnaissance!

… Well, perhaps he did. Once or twice. Or thrice. He did had to stay outside almost ‘til the dawn a couple of times, he supposed, as to be sure he wouldn’t miss anything. But that was different! Sentinel had actually been trained for that! Bulkhead… Bulkhead was perhaps a nice bot (naive rather than nice, in Sentinel’s mind), but he was hardly a spy, and he had no training to rely on, unless Intelligence had given him classes on something more than acting.

He glanced yet again by the window. Still nothing. Ugh! The wait was driving him crazy!

He continued to pace, processor spinning. What if he had had a problem? What if he had managed to injure himself, or had remained trapped somewhere? With his clumsiness, he could very well picture the oaf tripping on a root and breaking a leg strut or forgetting how large he was and remain struck in a narrow passage. Oh Pit, he didn’t even want to imagine Bulkhead climbing a tree! The branches would break like nothing under his weight!

Frag, what took him so long?

Vaguely, a small part of his CPU wondered if Bulkhead had ever felt like that when it was Sentinel who went out to investigate at night. If so, then he could sympathize. However, this small caring part was soon drowned under tension, curses and continuous pacing. Nervousness settled in, and with it, Sentinel couldn’t help but elaborate catastrophic scenarios.

What if… what if the oaf had indeed found the Decepticons but had been killed or worse, captured? In any case, the Decepticons and their Agents would recognize him and know he wasn’t acting alone. They’d come and try to silence him! And there was no weapon in the house, aside of Sentinel’s battle lance. Oh, he knew he could count on it, but against an unidentified number of enemies, and without backup? He’d have prefered a good blaster and a more defendable position.

He could also run, and join Riverbend and its shuttles to go to the nearest Autobot outpost, but… He wasn’t a coward! And beside, if he was wrong and Bulkhead came back home to find him gone, what would happen? He could ruin their cover while searching for him! Then again, if he had been captured, their cover was blown anyway…

He was still thinking about it when he finally heard the tell-tale noise of a vehicle mode driving and stopping before the house, as well as the sound of transformation cogs working. Sentinel tensed. Was it Bulkhead… or someone else? The whoever it was started to whistle a popular song, and Sentinel’s spark felt lighter, just as he started to scowl.

Bulkhead, definitely. And he was happy, at that! Didn’t the oaf think for even a klik of the nervousness Sentinel was in?!

“Darling, I’m home,” Bulkhead called out as he passed the door, only to receive a cushion in the face. “Uh, Sentinel?” he asked, startled.

“Don’t ‘Sentinel’ me!” the Prime barked. “Do you have any idea of how worried I was?! No news, you’re late, and you take the luxury to sound happy when you come back and you’d like me to be happy?!”

“Sentinel, the Sparklings…” the green mech said, obviously concerned that Sentinel’s nerves would result in harm to the developing little ones.

“The parasites are fine,” he scowled. “Now, what do you have to say for your defense?”

Bulkhead rubbed his helm. “Uh, for one, you said no radio contact while we were investigating?” Okay, perhaps Sentinel had said so, but Bulkhead hadn’t been forced to listen to him. “Also… you sometimes stayed out later than that?” Correct, but Sentinel was the CO here, he didn’t have to excuse himself or anything. “As for why I’m happy…” he trailed off.

Sentinel’s spark beat faster. “Did you find something useful? Did you find any proof Stillbarrel is a Decepticon Agent?” Because that would certainly be the best news ever, and something he’d be glad about too.

Bulkhead shuffled. “Huh, actually, I was… just happy to be back home to you and the sparklings?” he said nervously. Sentinel’s twitched. “As for Stillbarrel…” he paused and had a mirthless smirk which surprised Sentinel. “Well, let’s say that what I found about him explain a lot of things. Especially about the conversation you partially overheard.”

“Is he a Decepticon Agent, then?” Sentinel asked, not missing a beat.

Bulkhead hesitated. “Ah… you might want to sit down so we can talk about it,” he said quietly as he himself went to sit. Frowning, Sentinel followed his example, wondering why… Oh.

“He’s not, is he?” he said flatly, just as Bulkhead nodded in confirmation.

“No, he’s not. I could find nothing to link him to any Decepticon activity, real or suspected. That said, he’s not the cleanest mech around, and he could be considered a criminal,” he confessed, making Sentinel perk up in slight interest. Only slight, though; if Stillbarrel wasn’t a Decepticon Agent, he wasn’t interesting. However, if he was someone to arrest, he could still be useful for Sentinel’s career… then again, probably not, because it would throw their cover should they go out of their way and send local law enforcement against him.

“Are you familiar with the term of ‘moonshine’, Sentinel?” Bulkhead asked quietly.

The Prime blinked. “... I don’t think I do.”

The greem mech smirked slightly. “Moonshine refers to illegally produced high-grade,” he said simply. “Did someone tell you about licences for the production of high grade on Agri III? Nightglow, perhaps? Yes, he probably did. Anyway, since you listened to him, you know that, to produce high grade yourself, you’re supposed to register with Agri III’s High Council and pay a fee, right? And that it’s expensive? The brewsters at the Festival and Yoke all paid for the right to distill high grade mixes. But sometimes, some people do produce high grade without registering with the High Council. What they do is, as such, illegal and could make them arrested should whoever is in charge of the repression in the area decide it’s serious stuff. That said, you’ll find out almost every village has its own ‘Moonshiner’. Here at Primus’ Blessing, well, it’s Stillbarrel.”

So that was the big secret? Sentinel found himself disappointed.

“So, what I have heard on the Brewster Festival?” he asked.

“Probably Stillbarrel selling his products to someone in the know, a client of him, if you will,” Bulkhead allowed. “People are fond of high grade, even if they’re supposed to consume it in moderation, and Moonshiners sometimes produce rarities collectors are after, just to show off. Besides, since it’s illegal production and the buyer as just as much to lose as the maker, a Moonshiner may ask any price he wants, and he knows he will get paid by someone in the end. And buyers stays discreet, so…” he shrugged. “It’s work pretty good for him, I’d say, from what I saw from the inside of his house.”

“You went to speak with him?!”

Bulkhead gave him a look. “I went to give him back a basket belonging to Dewdrop; she was the one who gave you your last treats, was she not? So it was logical and welcome that, while I was taking a walk, I took advantage of the occasion to give her back her belonging, don’t you think?” Sentinel mumbled unhappily but didn’t comment.

“Anyway,” the Space Bridge technician continued, “it is clear they have money and they like expensive things. Fine fabrics and high quality furnitures everywhere. Dewdrop tries to keep it down by wearing plainer dresses, but she’s only waiting to show off.” Sentinel remembered, suddenly, the NewDawn Festival’s meal, and the comments about Stillbarrel and Dewdrop. Did they knew? Did the villagers all know or suspected but had said nothing? “It allowed me to recognize the early signs,” Bulkhead pursued. “I was sure of nothing, but such wealth indicated either an inheritance or illegal activities. And moonshining was the most logical. I had an Uncle on my Sire’s side who had a house like Foggy Bottom, full or riches, and who was a known and convicted Moonshiner. So I was pretty sure they were themselves. But well, since there was possible Decepticon’s activity, I watched the house for a while to see if Stillbarrel would go out eventually, and when he did, I followed him,” he explained. “He lead me straight to his installation,” he chuckled. “I must admit, it’s a carefully hidden one. He’s a tricky mech, Stillbarrel.”

Sentinel grunted in agreement, still thinking. “Why did he said we almost caught him? Were we near his production area any time?”

Bulkhead smiled a bit. “Ah… yes and no. Mainly, I think our arrival upset his approvisionnement circuit.” At Sentinel’s blank look, he elaborated. “Did you ever notice there were a couple of Aurum-Apples trees at the edge of our property, around the outer fields? There must have been a small orchard at some point, but it was probably taken down a long time ago, and now there’s only a couple of trees almost wild which keep giving fruits. As it is, I think Stillbarrel took the fruits they made for his use. And when we came in, he had to stop, for we would have noticed him had he continued. So he had to resort to other means to get the crystal fruits he needed for his production.”

“... the crystalberries of Lacey Lawn and the fruits of Fruitful Orchard and Breezy Heights,” Sentinel realized, remembering the talks of the Enduras about the ‘bad year’ for the crystal trees and the below average production.

Bulkhead nodded. “Bullseye. He stole the fruits at night to add in his alambics. That’s why he said we almost got him caught. So, nothing to do with Decepticons, and everything to do with a lesser known fact of the farm life,” he finished.

Sentinel shuttered his optics. Of course it was; what had he imagined? Each and any time he thought he had found a lead, it turned out to be something fairly ‘normal’ here, so what would he had had more luck now? Sometimes, he wondered if Intelligence hadn’t fabricated it all just to mess with him. They very well could have, he supposed, lips pursed. Then again, if so, they probably wouldn’t have send Bulkhead, who was going to be a planetary hero once his name was revealed to the crowds.

“So, what now? Do we call… eck, I don’t even know if there is any Enforcer here,” Sentinel mumbled. “There is certainly no Autotroopers.

“Uh, there is a small contingent of Enforcers in Riverbend; they sometimes patrol on the main roads, but since there’s little illegal activities going on outside of the docks in the main towns, they’re rarely called upon,” Bulkhead said. “If you have a problem, you have to call them on a special frequency and they’ll try to come in the solar cycle.”

“... Right. Make sense, I suppose,” Sentinel sighed. “So, do we call them about Stillbarrel?” Usually, he would have jumped at the occasion, as he was all for removing subversives elements from the community. Except that, here, he was out of his depth and he was getting tired of his lack of progresses.

Bulkhead pondered about that. “Let’s wait and see,” he finally decided. “So far, he’s not doing any harm, and I’d hate to see him dragged away while his Endura and his creations watch. We’ll advise later if we need to do something. For now, how about we catch some recharge?” he asked gently.

Sentinel shrugged. “Sure. Nothing better to do.”

Bulkhead smiled. “And while we’re at it, perhaps it is time for another donation, what do you say?” Even as he spoke, his panel had slide aside, freeing his spike, which was starting to proudly rise out of its housing.

Sentinel’s valve gave a hungry throb even as he twitched. The oaf definitely didn’t have the same order of priorities as him…


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another Festival... and Sentinel is even more weirded out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! <3

Now, Sentinel tried to be a level-headed mech. He gave a (sometimes) honest try to get to understand energon farmers’ beliefs and rituals, and on some level, he could guess from where they originated and why they did things a certain way. Some things were obvious, like the fertility undertone to about any Harvest Festivals; earth was like a mech, bearing fruits like they were bearing sparklings, so yes, in some twisted way, he could understand why Harvest Festival all comported some public fragging, especially in a community which wasn’t shy about berthroom activities.

Sentinel could accept it… somehow. From the disgusting shower of transfluid on his frame to the consumption of his lubricants and the glyphs clearly stating they were for fertility and virility, he could rationalize them.

But seriously, pleasuring the ‘Spike of Primus’?!

That just boggled his mind.

How could Primus have a spike? … Well, he supposed their mythical Creator must have had one, since he supposedly created them in his image. That said, Primus was supposedly the size of a planet, just like his dark Twin, Unicron. Some even whispered Cybertron itself was the God’s shell, which had transformed as Primus slumbered, allowing his children to use it as their planet. Uh, ridiculous, Sentinel had decided. That some kind of connection existed between the Commonwealth’s Capital and the God, he could accept, since very old files found by archeologists and archivists attested of something akin. But really, Cybertron, a living planet? Please!

Anyway, if it was true, then said spike would have been… Better not think about the size.

No, he really didn’t understand that will the farmers had to praise and thank Primus for his ‘kindness’ to them by… directly pleasuring the God. Or at least, symbolically pleasuring him. By having Enduras suck on a false spike which usually rested on a statue of Primus in the Sanctuary, the most sacred room of the Temple.

Of course it was Enduras who were going to pleasure it; who else could pleasure a spike? It certainly wasn’t the big, ‘viril’ Conjunx who would lower himself to do that, oh no! Why did they even have to pleasure Primus’ spike anyway? Why couldn’t have it been his valve, Sentinel thought, disgruntled? After all, Primus had both, no?

Except, or so the Priests liked to argue, Enduras were closer to Primus, since they brought life out of their own bodies, just like Primus once did. Or at least how he probably did. Funny how the texts were pretty vague about how he brought forth the first Thirteen… Anyway, Enduras were the ones who gave birth to the new generations, they were the ones receiving the blessed fluids of their Conjunx as to create the aforementioned new generations, and so they were the ones who had to thank Primus the most for their good fortune.

The fact that a Conjunx body had to remain pure of penetration went unsaid, Sentinel mused.

Anyway, back to the Festival. Each Endura was required to pleasure Primus’ spike in thank for both him/her and his/her Conjunx, while said Conjunx was fragging him/her. It was the closest thing to double penetration the farmers practiced -- aside of polygamous Bonds, such as the one held by Mayor Levitacus and both his Enduras, or the ones Twins were known to engage in; from what Sentinel had learned, it wasn’t unusual for Twins to Bond to the same mech -- and Sentinel couldn’t said he really wanted to experience it.

Except, guess who had been chosen as King and Queen of the Festival, the first and last to pleasure the ‘Spike of Primus’? Yes, you got it right. Sentinel could only scowl as mechs and femmes around him laughed and chatted, waiting for the moment the Priests would call them to transport the sacred Spike in the field selected for the ceremony. Because, oh, for once, they would frag in the nature, surrounded by the mechanicrops Primus had gifted them with. Well, except for the King and Queen, who would pleasure the Spike on the altar before the procession would take it to the chosen field.

Sentinel kicked in a rock, irritated. Around him, everybody made small talks as they waited giddily to be called inside. Some well-wisher and busybodies came to him from time to time to compliment him on his ‘beautiful’ maternity dress, to fuss over him and ask him if he was fueling properly and if he did not experience dizzy spells, or were eyeing him approvingly or with scrutiny, trying to discern if he was rounding up already.

Which he was not, thankfully. It was still too early for his pregnancy to show… even if he was carrying twins and as such, would show earlier than most. It made Sentinel shudder thinking about him: him, bit and fat, abdomen swollen to the point of almost bursting with not one but two copies of Bulkhead kicking and punching him… Dreadful. Though for some reason, it seemed to turn Bulkhead’s on. Crazy mech...

Indeed, Bulkhead was starting to worry him. The other solar cycle, as he was dozing off, he had surprised the larger mech cooing and having a one-sided conversation with his abdomen… or rather, with the unborn sparklings. He kept petting Sentinel while asking the two sparklets to grow up fast and big so they could get out soon and meet with their Creators. Some might have found it sweet; Sentinel found it creepy.

As he mused over it, the doors of the Temple opened, and Father Spica bellowed them to come, looking at Sentinel and Bulkhead in particular. The green mech nodded and smiled widely as he took Sentinel’s hand in his and dragged him along, the Prime mumbling as he lifted his skirt slightly as to avoid walking on the edge. The one he had chose for the occasion was a new one he had realized himself, and he was finding that he’d need to make some retouches, most notably over the length, which was just a tad too long for his comfort.

Still, he followed and tried to keep an even face as other couples followed them, two by two, chatting idly and not worried at all. Why would they, after all? They were just going to frag… while giving oral to a false spike supposed to be part of Primus himself. Had he mentioned already how ridiculous he thought it was? As far as symbolism went, it was taking it too far. And wasn’t it a violation of their own beliefs anyway? Because, as far as he knew and understood, false spikes were just banned by the Church of Primus… sort of. A valve was reserved to a mate’s spike only. Using toys, aside of the plugs to help trap transfluid inside, was forbidden. ThankPrimus Day was an exception… and apparently, the ‘Spike of Primus’ was a second one.

Were they really believing there was some sort of mystical connection between the God and a simple toy? Oh, please…

They reached the Sanctuary sooner than he’d have liked. It looked like no other room of the Temple Sentinel had seen so far. For one, it was a round piece, and the titular Altar was lying in the center, atop a few steps. Said Altar was placed lower to the ground than the one in the Main Prayer Chamber or any of the additional prayer rooms. It was also less richly decorated… but the painted scenes on the walls were far more explicit than the ones in the other rooms. A fresco depicted two mechs, clearly identified as Conjunx and Endura, fragging under rays of light probably symbolizing the presence of Primus above them, shining in approbation. The Altar, much to Sentinel uneasiness, depicted a carrying Endura giving birth.

And, most startling right behind the Altar, there was a statue standing proudly. Primus made in precious metal and stones, gaze lowered to watch the Altar, arms at his sides, legs parted. And between his legs, like standing proudly erected, was the toy Sentinel and all other Enduras were supposed to pleasure.

The fabled Spike wasn’t what Sentinel had expected. It certainly looked like no other false spike that he had ever witnessed -- not that he had ever seen many, of course. When they told him about Primus’ Spike, he had expected a ‘classical’ dildo, like the one that had been shoved in him on ThankPrimus Day, something made of a soft polymer and vaguely shaped like an erected rod.

Of course, the false spike he had had to bear in had been very detailed, so why should a ‘cult object’ be less so?

The Spike of Primus was large, but that, he had rather expected. It wasn’t larger than Bulkhead, or at least it didn’t appear so, but it was thick and adorned with ridges over the whole length. Sentinel could distinguish carved runes and glyphs all over it, though he couldn’t decipher them; they were from an ancient variant not used anymore on Cybertron, and he could only match them through a glimpse he had had of one of Optimus’ datafiles while they were in the Academy. The other Prime had always enjoyed reading… He shook his head, trying to focus on the false spike Father Spica was busy unhooking from its position between the legs of Primus’ statue. As the Priest carefully brought it to him, Sentinel got a better look. The shape was really perfect, but… he couldn’t for the life of him identify in what it had been made from.

If someone had asked Sentinel to describe it, he could only have said it looked like a jewel in its natural form. For despite its smooth to the touch appearance, it looked like a glittering jewel one was hard pressed to guess how it had been carved. For some reason, it just seemed to… it was like it had always had this form. The strangeness didn’t stop here; as the relic was delicately put into Sentinel’s hands, the Prime was startled to discover it was warm, despite its precious stone appearance and the fact it had stood in a rather cold room. Looking dubiously at the Spike, he wondered if he was dreaming.

“It’s time for you to please Primus, Sentinel,” Father Spica said gently.

“Uh, right,” the Prime mumbled as Bulkhead took him in his arms to put him on the Altar, in a way that reminisced Sentinel of their Bonding day. As the larger mech spread his legs and settled between them, he eyed the false spike in his hands dubiously. Was it him, or did it suddenly become hotter in his hands? And… it was stupid, it was probably a trick of the light, but he could have sworn the statue’s optics -- made of precious saphires -- were glinting harder.

Tentatively, he gave the false spike a lick and blinked, surprised. It… tasted good. For some reason, the stupid thing tasted good. Cautiously, he gave another lick, just as he felt Bulkhead shift and burrow his head between his thighs, the larger mech breathing against his valve. A smooth glossa started to tease him and he moaned, bringing the false spike closer to his mouth, mimicking the licks he himself received and matching their rhythm. His valve was lubricating effortlessly as he worked his lips over the tip of the relic, gently taking it in his mouth just as Bulkhead finished with his foreplay and shifted, his erected spike pressing against the edge of Sentinel’s valve.

He started to swallow just as Bulkhead thrusted into him, his moan muffled by the thick precious dildo he was working over. The damn thing felt almost as hot as a real spike, and was tastier to boot. Above him, he felt as if the statue was truly watching him, which was stupid of course; it was only a statue.

He continued to pleasure it longly as he was taken on the Altar, Bulkhead thrusting in and out of him at a steady pace, muttering praises and little words of love Sentinel barely listening to, too focused on the toy in his mouth and how to take more of it down his intakes. It wasn’t quite normal, he noted in the back of his CPU, that he found himself trying so hard to pleasure that dildo, when he didn’t even had half the same focus when it came to Bulkhead’s own spike. Was it him, or did that thing even… pulse?

Oh frag, it did! There was a fluctuation of heat down that shaft, quite like a real spike! But it wasn’t possible, it was just a toy! Quite suddenly, the false spike seemed to get engorged, and Sentinel’s optics widened in surprise as he felt something trickle down his throat, something with a familiar taste, though sweeter than usual. Was it… it couldn’t be… it couldn’t be real transfluid, could it?!

Slag, it was, he realized as Bulkhead grunted and overloaded inside him, the rush of hot sticky liquid flooding Sentinel’s valve as his walls squeezed the thick member, milking its fluids so it could send them straight to his gestational chamber, to help construct the sparklings’ protoforms, and triggering his own overload.

Sputtering and trying not to choke on the liquid filling his mouth, he took the Spike out, watching it in disbelief. There had to be some sort of mechanism… some hidden reservoir of fluid hidden inside. That transfluid couldn’t have come out of nowhere, it was impossible! But even as he watched it closely and touched it everywhere as Bulkhead retired from him, he could find no seam, not secret mechanism, nothing proving it wasn’t just a spike-shaped basic toy. It seemed colder to the touch now that he thought about it, and it certainly hadn’t swollen like he thought it did in his throat, in fact it even seemed to have shrunk a bit.

He swallowed nervously. Okay, it was really, really weird...

A kiss from Bulkhead brought him back to Agri III, so to speak, as his Conjunx moved to help him sit. “You were wonderful, Love,” the green mech cooed, and Sentinel paid it no mind, still looking at the toy in his hands weirdly.

‘Spike of Primus’, eh? How unsettling to think there was perhaps something more or less true about that...

“There were fluids in my mouth,” he stated dumbly, not truly believing it despite the fact that it had obviously happened. Eck, he still had the taste in his mouth and there was a drop at the corner of his lips.

Bulkhead shrugged. “Well, yes. It’s Primus’ Spike, after all, he overloads too,” he pointed out. “He must have been very pleased with you, to have come so fast.”

Sentinel twitched. He really didn’t like the way this conversation was turning out. Father Spice rumbled pleasantly as he neared them.

“Now that our Queen paid his respects, it is time for the rest of our townsfolk to properly please Primus in turn. Sentinel, if you please?” he asked gently, reaching for the Spike, which Sentinel dropped in his hands quickly as he felt another rush of heat coming from the… the thing. No way it was normal!

Father Spica didn’t mind, though. He took the Spike of Primus with reverence and held it up for all to see, just as Sister Ara, Sister Alhena, Pastor Alkes and Pastor Akrus came to stand at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Altar, carrying a richly decorated, open chest on their shoulders. There was a single red cushion inside, on which Father Spica precociously deposited the false spike before closing the chest. Slowly, the four bearers turned and started walking toward the doors, humming softly, and joined in their humming by the townsfolk.

Sentinel watched them all follow the chest, some of them looking at each other excitedly, with a weird look on his face. Bulkhead slide an arm around his chest and brought him closer to him.

“Time for us to join them,” he rumbled softly.

“Guess so,” the Prime groused. “And what are we supposed to do while they ‘pay their respects’ and I wait to ‘close the ceremony’ by ‘pleasuring Primus’ for the second time of the night? Chat, eat and frag some more?” he asked, trying to sound sarcastic.

Bulkhead shrugged. “Pretty much, yes. I’m sure some more transfluid won’t hurt our little ones. Beside, I think you look lovely in that dress. It makes me want to… play,” he said as he squeezed the Prime’s aft, making him yelp and cuff him in turn. Bulkhead just chuckled. Sentinel sighed. Why did that not even surprise him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so we're kinda finished with the main Sentinel torture. Next chapter, we will start the Reveal... then we'll have to tie the loose ends before the Epilogue. :)  
> See you soon for the next chapter!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they found out the Decepticon(s); but what to do with the information?

“Sentinel, are you sure you don’t want to get in the cart?” Bulkhead asked worriedly as he led the two Zap-Horses by the bridle, following Sentinel at some distance as the Prime stalked forward, in a foul mood. He didn’t even bother to give him an answer, just walking a bit faster and forcing Bulkhead to follow his rhythm.

His abdomen had experienced a small swell already. It was barely noticeable, especially under the dress, but the Prime had literally freaked out upon noticing when he had been bathing earlier today. He had shrieked and flailed, horror written on his faceplates. Bulkhead had tried to be nice and helpful and reassuring, but apparently, he hadn’t managed to find the right words, for Sentinel had cuffed him and swore at him that it was his fault he was now ruined.

Honestly, Bulkhead thought he was getting overdramatic. That small bulge under Sentinel’s plating wasn’t so bad; indeed, the green mech found it cute… and very arousing. It was further proof Sentinel was carrying his sparklings, that he was a highly fertile mech and very, very fraggable. He just couldn’t wait until the Prime gained some roundness, because when he did, then Bulkhead might just not let him leave the berth again and…

Well, he admitted that he had always loved looking at carrying mechs. He could remember, as a child, following some around optics wide, trying to get a closer, better look. It had amused his Creators and most of the neighbors at the time, and he remembered them gently taking his relatively small hand and press it against these swollen bellies, just so he could feel. His fascination with well-rounded bellies hadn’t ended as he came into younglinghood, then adulthood. He just had less occasions to dwell on it… and it was less socially acceptable on Cybertron to just go and stare at a Carrier, silently begging for a touch.

But now… now he had an official mate, who was carrying his sparklings, so he had no reasons to refrain himself… aside of the fact Sentinel was clearly too disgruntled to let him try. But it was so, so tempting… part of his wanted to just grab the Prime and cuddle with him, possibly after gagging him so he wouldn’t get yelled at.

The fact the Prime kept referring to their future bitlets as parasites was something he found worrisome. He wondered if Sentinel would ever develop some ‘maternal’ instinct for them. On one hand, he didn’t look like he would make good Carrier material -- not like, say, Optimus or Prowl, who would just love and take care of a smaller lifeform no matter what. On the other hand, well… mechs could become good at being Creators, even if they didn’t seem to be able to at first glance.

His own Carrier had a cousin who had been a nasty, dreadful Femme, and it had been a wonder for everyone when someone had actually courted and Bonded her. When she had announced she was Carrying, they had all exchanged stunned, worried looks, because… well, because she was the last person they would have trust with a pet, let alone a Sparkling. But surprisingly, for all her grunting, cursing and general nastiness, she had showed herself to be a devoted Carrier to her sparklings as well as a devoted Endura to her Conjunx. Of course, she didn’t change the rest of her ways, and she remained to this day a spiteful little thing with a sharp glossa that had made Bulkhead quiver in fear all his sparklinghood, then twitch and want to strangle her all his younglinghood. If he was honest with himself, Sentinel didn’t even come near her level in term of annoyance. So… perhaps Creatorhood would soften the Prime some, who knew? Perhaps it would mellow him, make him a nicer mech?

… One could always hope. Besides, Sentinel wasn’t bad with young Sparks. The Jettwins were a proof he could do some things right. Sure, he had trained them rather than educated them, but they had grown attached and considered Sentinel a surrogate Creator. Speaking of the two flying Autobots, Bulkhead still wasn’t happy with the Elite Guard. Really, the moment they discovered how young they were, they shouldn’t have allowed them to be send on missions! There were younglings, not soldiers!

If Bulkhead had his way, he’d made sure they retired from the Guard this very moment to… well, he didn’t know to do what or to go where. They had no family and no real qualifications, and they wouldn’t be able to find a job… The best they could hope for was… Hmm, perhaps he could suggest to Blurr he send them live here with him and Sentinel? Wistful thinking, he knew, since he was there on a mission and would leave as soon as it was over, but really, it could be nice. They could finish properly growing up on the farm, raised by him and Sentinel, since he was their surrogate Creator, and surrounded by lot of playmates… and their little half/adopted siblings.

Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Bulkhead sighed. They were nice plans and dreams, but so far, it was just that: dreams and plans. And Sentinel was… well, he was Sentinel. Manageable, especially since, after living in close quarter with his for so long, Bulkhead had learned to read his mood and defuse potentially tricky situations. And well, the Prime’s mood had slightly improved now that he had added part of the smaller mech’s chores to his own load of work, but then again, Bulkhead did so willingly and sometimes eagerly. He couldn’t risk Sentinel injuring himself when he was in such a delicate state, after all. Besides, there was nothing wrong with treating his Endura with breakfasts or lunches he did himself, and nobody could fault him for spoiling his Endura a bit, considering he was carrying.

Indeed, most of their neighbors thought it was cute, to see him so devoted, and had even offered tips on how to further spoil the Prime. Bulkhead was still hesitating about using some of them just yet; long, soothing pedes massages sounded good in theory, but Sentinel wasn’t yet suffering from swollen joints, and he didn’t quite think the Prime would approve if he asked. Same things for massages in general.

“Sentinel,” he tried again, “please, I must insist…”

The Prime actually stopped and glared at him. “I’m perfectly fine,” he groused. “I don’t need to be coddled! And I will freaking walk if I want!”

“Yes, dear,” Bulkhead answered meekly. “I was just suggesting…”

“You are suggesting nothing,” the Prime cut in, thumping, clearly irritated. “You… all your fault,” he mumbled.

Bulkhead sighed. “Please, Sentinel, you know it was bound to happen, since you’re carrying. I mean, given our respective size and frames, there was no way you’d stay flat, especially with twins and…”

“That’s still your fault I’m sparked. You and your damn libido!”

“Uh, I seem to remember you’re the one who crawled to me when…” the green mech coughed, trailing off as he was rewarded by an irritated look.

“Nevermind that,” he snapped. “I should never had let you stick that thing inside me to begin with! No, better than that, I should never had agreed on coming here to begin with! My place is on Cybertron, with the Elite Guard, at protecting the Commonwealth from the Decepticons! Not wasting away on a farm on a backward planet! The more I think about it, the more I think it’s all wrong! Decepticons here, ah! As if!”

Bulkhead opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t get the chance to.

“Why do you speak of Goodmech Brimstone and Goodmech Tidalwave?” a small, young voice asked them.

There was a sudden silence. The time seemed to still and stop as Sentinel and Bulkhead both paused and, as one being, turned their head to the side to look at the barrier longing the road. Two small beings were there, one sitting on the road, the other leaning against the fence, both watching the two Autobots with the same perplexed and slightly worried look.

“Brimstone and Tidalwave?” Sentinel silently mouthed in disbelief as he glanced over at Bulkhead stunned. The green mech coughed and tried to smile at the two sparklings sitting by.

“Ah, uh… Hello Sunblaze, hello Cure, how are you two doing?” he asked in a friendly voice. Sentinel’s minds rackled to find the corresponding Creators. Cure was easy, he was Counterstep and Sterling’s youngest, but Sunblaze… Smokefall and Shimmersun, he decided after a few second of watching; his colorings were very similars to his Carrier.

What were they doing here? Shouldn’t they have been in class? Then again, neither Sentinel nor Bulkhead had paid too much attention to the way education was arranged so far; why should have they, when it concerned them little?

Then again, never mind that. Were these sparklings really implying -- okay, they weren’t implying, they had just outright stated -- that Tidalwave and Brimstone were Decepticons?! It was… it was ludicrous! He had crossed Tidalwave off of the suspects list long ago, because there was no way someone so… so simple could be a Decepticon or a spy!

There was no way it was real! He had… had to interrogate them, make them talk, ask them where they got the idea...

:: _Bulkhead, what they just say…!_ ::

:: _Stay silent and let me handle that,_ :: Bulkhead immediately send back, imperious, and though the Prime pursed his lips, he backed off and let Bulkhead do… whatever he wanted to do. Sentinel thought of himself as a good interrogator, but with sparklings? Bulkhead had probably more experience than him with that.

The two sparklings glanced at each other before smiling shyly at Bulkhead. “Hello to you too, Goodmech Bulkhead. You’re… alright?” Cure asked with a pointed glance at Sentinel. Just how much had they heard and understood?

“Oh, fine, fine,” the Space Bridge technician reassured them quickly. The two young mechs looked dubious, though, and kept glancing at him and Sentinel with a small frown. Bulkhead tried to smile. “Don’t you mind Sentinel, kiddos. He’s a bit… grumpy, lately. Ever seen your Carriers acting up while they were carrying your siblings?” he asked them with a small wink.

Cure shrugged. “No, I’m the youngest…” It was obvious he wasn’t very convinced by the explanation, but Sunblaze looked contemplative.

“Is Goodwife Sentinel not happy to have a little one?” he asked, shuffling uneasily. “Is he… doesn’t he like it here?”

Bulkhead had to hide a wince even as Sentinel bristled. “Oh, Sentinel isn’t unhappy to be a Creator soon,” he assured the two mechlings. “In fact, he’s very, very happy about it. Simply, it… came as a big surprise to him, and he’s nervous he will not be a good Carrier for the little ones. It’s something very normal when you become Creators for the first one, you see?” Cure frowned, but nodded slightly -- just as Bulkhead had hoped. As the Creation of the local medic, he must have had heard of or seen some tricky cases, enough to make him doubt and guess it was possible. Bulkhead continued. “And… It’s not that Sentinel isn’t happy to live here,” he said carefully. “Simply, Sentinel really, really liked his job, and well, it was very hard for him to come here and drop everything. Say, you ever had cousins or uncles and aunts who chose to go somewhere because there were opportunities, but not being exactly happy to leave because they liked it where they lived?”

Cure bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah… kinda,” he allowed. “I mean, I know most of Goodwife Greenlight’s younger siblings weren’t happy when their Creators decided to leave and try their luck on the newly colonized Agri IV, but they insisted, and everybody had to leave with them, ‘cept Goodwife Greenlight ‘cause she was Bonded and staying with Goodfemme Lancer. And even that one or two of them are trying to convince their Creators to let them come back to live with Goodfemme Lancer and Goodwife Greenlight, and that it may happen ‘cause they’re really persistent.”

Sentinel blinked. He didn’t know even the sparklings loved gossip so much. Sunblaze tilted his head at him, obviously puzzled at the news, and Bulkhead nodded slowly. “You know a lot of things, Cure. You’re really a bright sparkling,” he said encouragingly.

The little mech blushed. “‘m not, I’m just listening to the grown ups talk when I play alone in the living room, and sometimes they forget I’m here and I learn lot of things,” he mumbled, turning his head shyly to the side.

Bulkhead just smiled. “Well, that doesn’t make you any less smart, because you understood what they were saying, and I know a lot of sparklings your age who wouldn’t have understood.” Cure puffed in pride, smiling brightly at the compliment. “Anyway, Sentinel is like that. He’s happy to be here and to be sparked, but he was so conscientious at his job and he liked it so much he still miss it. And since part of his jobs was to defend Cybertron against the Decepticons, he’s still a bit nervous when one mention them, and he had heard a rumor there were nasty Decepticons on the planet, you see?”

Sentinel tried to smile reassuringly. All he managed to do was to grimace. “Uh, yeah… like Bulkhead said. Heard things… about Decepticons.”

Sunblaze frowned. “But Carrier said you were a secre… secretary bot,” Sunblaze said carefully. “Sister Ara said it’s someone who fills papers. So how come his job was to defend Cybertron?”

Bulkhead had to think fast. “Well, all Autobots takes fighting lessons just in case, so Sentinel learned to fight! And in case of an alert, or if there is ever another war, everybot might see some battles, and Sentinel was trained with that thought!” he said very fast. “So really, even if he was… filling papers and taking messages… as an Autobot, defend Cybertron is part of his job. Just… not his principal one,” he finished lamely. Sentinel twitched behind him, clearly still unhappy about his official cover story.

Thankfully, even if Bulkhead had lacked conviction in his speech, it had sounded credible enough to the sparklings audio receptors, and they were watching Sentinel with a new kind of respect. “You must be so very brave, Goodwife Sentinel!”

The Prime smiled thinly. “Yes, yes I suppose I am,” he allowed. “That said, what were you saying, about Decepticons?” He leaned forward, optics blazing.

The two sparklings shuffled nervously and Cure even took a step back, obviously ill at ease. Bulkhead coughed. “Please, don’t be nervous,” he said gently. “We just wanted to ask… You see, even if we left the Autobots, we still… well, it’s a bit hard to lost the habit to worry about Decepticons in general. I mean, you can’t just forget you’ve been trained to fight them for stellar cycles in such a short period. Sentinel was very unnerved when we found out about that rumor that said there were Decepticons around. Why, they could hurt us and the sparklings…” he trailed off, trying to hook the two mechlings.

They caught the bait. “But Goodmech Tidalwave and Goodmech Brimstone would never hurt a Carrier!” Cure said indignantly. “They’re very, very nice mechs!”

Sunblaze nodded eagerly. “They really are! And they’ve been here for ages, so if they were going to hurt someone, they would have done so already!”

Bulkhead tried to placate them. “Peace, mechlings, peace. So Tidalwave and Brimstone are really Decepticons? I mean, they don’t look like Decepticons at all. They have blue and purple optics, no? Decepticons have red ones, so maybe they’re not. And they don’t have a purple symbol on them. Who told you they were? And does anyone else know?” Sentinel almost vibrated in excitement. Finally answers!

Sunblaze tilted his head. “Well, yeah, everyone here knows. About them being Deceptions. We just don’t discuss it too much, ‘cause it’s not important. But it’s not like it’s a secret,” the sparkling pointed out.

Sentinel twitched. Not a secret? Everybody knew? Frag, did that meant that, if he had casually asked for informations on Decepticons during an Enduras meeting, the gossipers would have just pointed him in the right direction from the very start? Did that meant that, instead of spending orbital cycles on Agri III, getting regularly and publicly fragged by his Conjunx and ending up sparked, he would have fulfilled that mission under a few decacycles?

… that had to be a bad joke. Or a nightmare.

Caught up in his horrified realizations, he missed some of the following conversation between Bulkhead and the two sparklings. He only caught the end of the dialog.

“... no, we won’t cause them trouble or hurt them. We’re just going to have a small conversation with them, that’s all,” Bulkhead assured the two mechlings, gently patting their helms. “Now, how about you go back home? I’m not sure your Creators would like to see you standing by the road, it could be dangerous,” he warned.

The two little ones nodded and went off running through the fields, laughing. Bulkhead shuttered his optics one moment.

Sentinel came back to life. “We need to inform Cybertron immediately! Get some renforts send to our position as fast as possible! Put the whole village under arrest!”

“Why?”

The Prime looked at his fellow Autobot as if he was crazy. “Why? You really have to ask why? Each of these mechas -- yes, I mean all, including the Priests and the sparklings -- willingly covered enemies of the Autobots and have hidden them in their midst! They’re traitors! Traitors must be arrested!”

“That makes no sense,” Bulkhead said, deep in thought. As he saw Sentinel open his mouth to rant, he cut him off. “Hear me out, please. There is no way these townsfolk covered for a band of Decepticons.”

“You have the sparklings’ testimonies!”

“Yes, I have heard them,” Bulkhead nodded. “But there’s still something which doesn’t add up. Think about it clearly, alright? Brimstone and Tidalwave are among Primus’ Blessing’s oldest residents, right? So if they were really Decepticons -- and they very well might be, because I don’t think the young ones made it up -- how can Intelligence only have caught on now? Logically, if they were here for spy work or sabotage, one should have caught them sooner, and the townsfolk wouldn’t have stood for that. Sure, they’re more Neutrals than Autobots, but they wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen to their mechanicrops or… or to have someone poisoned by someone tampering with them!”

“Someone could have and not reported them; look at Long… Shockwave!” Sentinel pointed out. “Who know what he has kept hidden over the vorns he was Head of Intelligence? Besides, maybe they grew sloppy with Megatron’s capture!”

Bulkhead rumbled. “Possibly, possibly. But I don’t believe it’s the only reason.” He sighed and shuttered his optics, thinking. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. Get into the cart,” he ordered.

“Sorry?” Sentinel said, blinking.

“You heard me. Get into the cart. We’re going to Glimmer Pond, it’s closer than Mirror Lake,” he said simply. “I think we need to have a small conversation with Brimstone… and probably with Tidalwave if we can.”

Sentinel looked at him as if he was crazy. “You want to go and talk with Decepticons? Are you insane?!”

“I’d like to point out that we spoke with them and shared drinks and fuels long before we knew about their Decepticons’ origins,” he said calmly. “And besides, what else do you want to do? Reinforcements won’t come for quite some time. No Space Bridge here, remember?”

“Cybertron should really install one,” Sentinel mumbled as he climbed in the cart, helped by Bulkhead. “And I still say going to see them is insane!”

Bulkhead smiled thinly. “Perhaps. But I don’t think they’ll cause us any trouble…”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brimstone has some things to reveal...

“I knew you couldn’t just be former Autobots,” Brimstone stated calmly as he sat in his chair, a cube of oil before him on the table. “There was something about the two of you -- especially you, Sentinel -- which just screamed ‘active duty’,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “You Bulkhead, however… it comes as a surprise, almost. I mean, it’s obvious you’re not just acting, you’re really a farmer and a damn good one at that.”

Installed in the couch across him, the Prime growled, hands tightening around his battle lance. The weapon was depowered for now, just as was his Skyboom shield, but he was ready to activate them the moment the Decepticon in front of him made any threatening or suspicious gesture.

Bulkhead just sipped at his own cube calmly, looking unconcerned. “Yes, I suppose Sentinel’s acting skills need to be brushed off. As for me, I have little merit. I was destined to be an energon farmer by upbringing. I just chose Space Bridges over the farm,” he said simply.

The Deception hummed. “Nothing bad with such a choice, really. I know what it’s like to want to be useful.” He reached for his cube, only for Sentinel to twitch.

“Back off, Decepticon,” he growled, his lance starting to extend.

Brimstone sighed. “Your Endura is really a nervous one,” he said to Bulkhead, shaking his head sadly. “I’m just getting my drink, see?” he said gesturing quietly to the cube, and with a grunt, Sentinel allowed him to take it. He didn’t, however, left him out of his sight and followed his every moves closely.

“Speaking of Endura… Shock isn’t here?” Bulkhead asked gently.

Brimstone chuckled. “Oh no, no. He went out to the market with Canker and Weedkiller. I don’t expect them to be back for another megacycle. Easier to talk while they’re not here, don’t you think?”

“Quite,” Bulkhead nodded. “Does he know you’re…?”

“A former Decepticon? Of course he knows. That mech is the main reason I deserted during the war, you know,” Brimstone commented airily.

Sentinel twitched. “You want to make us believe that you’re a deserter? That you have no link between you and the rest of the Decepticon faction at this very moment?”

“I don’t need to make you believe anything, since it’s the truth,” the Decepticon noted. “But of course, you won’t believe my word alone, will you?”

“I’m… inclined to believe it,” Bulkhead stated, startling Sentinel who sputtered, and making Brimstone blink than chuckle pleasantly.

“You’re a smarter and more sensitive mech than your mate, then, my dear Bulkhead.”

“I’m not his mate!” Sentinel snapped. “And I’m not a… a simpleton!”

Bullkhead sighed and put a hand on Sentinel’s shoulder to stop him from lunging at the Decepticon sitting across them. “Sentinel, you’re officially my mate, our Bonding is legal, remember? And nobody ever said you were a simpleton. Brimstone is just saying that I’m… more inclined to hear him out than you before calling in Cybertron’s armada on his head.”

“Just what he said,” Brimstone said, sipping quietly on his cube. It didn’t placate Sentinel much, but at least the Prime looked least murderous. The Decepticon or rather, former Decepticon in his own words, looked them over for a moment in silence before sighing. “I suppose it is the moment where I must expose my whole life to you so you’ll believe me?”

Bulkhead had a quick smile. “Something likes that,” he allowed. “I find myself curious. Why Agri III? Why Primus’ Blessing?”

“Because my shuttle was shot down over the planet and I crashed near by. Or rather, we crashed near by, with Tidalwave and two other mechs,” Brimstone answered simply as he lounged in his seat.

“But, better to start by the beginning, don’t you think? Our story begins on Cybertron, eons ago, when the Decepticon Registration Act acted as a last straw to many mechs who chose to join Megatron in his quest for equality for the war-type frames. At least, it was how it was presented to us,” Brimstone said as he saw Sentinel opening his mouth to protest. “I don’t doubt Autobots see things in a different light, and I gather an historian interrogating both side would come up with vastly different answers, but I digress.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “I joined up the Decepticons with my brother Blight just as the fighting started in earnest. I ended up working for the toxic warfare division -- which, by the way, really helped me in creating my own fertilizers and herbicides once I started farming. I could have gotten a small fortune by selling the recipes, but I wasn’t that interested in credits… Right, that’s not what you want to hear,” he said as Sentinel glared at him and Bulkhead raised an optic ridge. “As I said, I was working for the toxic warfare division. But as the war progressed and more and more soldiers fell, I was sent on the frontlines.” He paused, looked down at his cube and gulped what was left in a go. “I won’t bother you with the details. Let’s just say there are things I never want to see again. Especially what some of the bots in my division came up with,” he shuddered. “Oil Slick was a real creep… Anyway, working on chemical and plagues might sound interesting on a datapad. Seeing their results, especially on mechs caught in friendly fire… and knowing you had no antidote to give them because your superiors didn’t think one was necessary or rushed things so much you didn’t have time to create one…” he paused again.

“I was getting… disillusioned, you could say,” he finally continued. “The fighting seemed endless, and it was clear we were losing ground to the Autobots, especially once the Supremes were revealed. Around that time, I was sent on a recon mission in this corner of space with a small team which, as you might have guessed, included Tidalwave. Although Megatron had given strict orders to not strike down the agricultural planets, which were still willing to trade with us, they were still part of the Commonwealth, and rumors said Autobot forces were starting to regroup around here.”

“I never heard there was any,” Bulkhead said. “My Boss liked history, and he often told us about events of the war. Agri III, or even Agri I or II, were never mentioned as having Autobot bases. And Athenia wasn’t properly colonized at the time either.”

“You’re right, there wasn’t anything around here, just Autobot patrols who watched over the three Agri, just in case we Cons would have gotten ideas to unleash a plague or two on the planets. Given the ruthlessness of some of our members, I can’t say their fears were perfectly unjustified,” he said calmly. “Anyway, as we did recon, we were ambushed by an Autobot ship which got the drop on us. Although we did our best to escape, the ship had taken too much damage, and we ended up crashing on Agri III, not even three hics from here. The Autobots must have thought us all deactivated in the crash, for nobody came down and gave us the chase. That said, they weren’t quite wrong. Our pilot died on impact, and another mech had died even before the crash. Tidalwave and I were the only survivors… and ‘survivor’ was a big word. We were in such a bad state… had the energon farmers not see us crash and decided to do the decent, right thing and rescue whoever could still be rescued, I wouldn’t be here today anymore.”

He took another cube, still under Sentinel’s watchful optics. The Prime wasn’t saying anything, just listening, but it was clear he was still distrustful and ready to attack at the smallest provocation.

“The farmers who took us in were… they were good mechs, nothing to say about it. Despite the odds, they managed to save us both. We had been so damaged in the crash… a good part of our frames had to be rebuild, limbs changed, optics too -- that’s why we don’t have our nice red ones anymore,” he added mirthlessly. “We stayed berth-ridden for orbital cycles, being cared by Shock’s family. He was still a youngling at the time, and became my own personal nurse, just like Moonshift, one of his best friends who had entered the age to be courted and took quite the shine to Tidalwave. He came by everyday to see him,” he said with a fond smile, remembering. “We never threatened or harmed anyone,” he insisted. “In our state, we were only able to recharge, refuel, talk some and go back to recharge. By the time we could walk and transform again… We weren’t so keen on the idea of leaving anymore,” he just said.

“And why is that?” Sentinel asked suspiciously. He didn’t believe anything the Con said for a klik, and he wanted to shout it at him, but Bulkhead had pleaded with him to listen to his explanation ‘til the end, and for now, the green mech was listening silently, stone-faced.

Brimstone chuckled. “You really have to ask? You must be a young one, Sentinel. When a Decepticon deserts, he has his reasons. Mainly, the battlefield doesn’t appeal to him so much anymore. I had had vague thoughts of deserting before, but I wouldn’t have left. Not with Blight being still dedicated to the Cause. So that crash on Agri III opened a door for me. I mean, what were the chances of discreetly leaving the planet? At the time, there was none. The only spaceport was under Autobot control, we had no identity cards or accreditations which would have allowed us to leave without getting suspected. As for using the shuttle’s radio to call for help -- because yes, surprisingly, it had resisted the crash and was still working -- in Autobot-controlled space, it would have been stupid and potentially suicidal. Not to mention it would have brought no amount of troubles on our hosts’ heads, so we scratched the idea pretty fast. So Tidalwave and I were stuck until the Decepticon established a stronger presence in the area or won the war. And as we waited, we had to find some kind of occupation.”

“So you started to work on the farms until it happened?” Bulkhead asked.

“Pretty much,” Brimstone nodded. “At first, I had trouble convincing Tidalwave to just lay low and do some honest work. We both were out of our depth, and being a workmech on the big farms while we just waited for a reverse of fortune didn’t sound so appealing. Then energon farmers customs and Festivals struck, as well as Shock and Moonshift and the flirting,” he chuckled. “I remember Tidalwave’s face when we first came down to see a typical Conjunx/Endura reunion; absolutely priceless.”

“I imagine,” Sentinel groused, remembering his own encounter with the ‘tradition’.

“As soldiers, you seldom had opportunities for romance, so when you saw couples interfacing in public like that without a care, it certainly struck something deep inside your spark,” Brimstone commented. “It certainly did for us. Then it became obvious Shock and Moonshift knew what they wanted. We were not farmers, but we were handsome and interesting and they intended to have us court them. Which we did, though there were some objections from both their families. It pretty much stopped, forcefully, when Moonshift got sparked when they weren’t even properly engaged. Quite the scandal, you might say. It almost ended with Tidalwave conducted to the Altar with blasters aimed at his back. Thankfully, he was always a respectable mech and he did the right thing by immediately asking for Moonshift’s hand, then starting to economize credits to buy a property while working hard for his in-laws. He settled into farm life pretty fast and easily after that, and he never spoke of leaving again. Not that he had really done so before; the fighting was starting to wear him out too, and he had had too many close calls for his comfort. So it was pretty much the Well of Sparks to him here.”

“And you?”

“Me? Well, I tried to settle in in a more correct fashion, by first getting properly engaged to Shock and renovating Glimmer Pond -- when I got it, it was a ruin; I bought it for almost nothing and although it took me stellar cycles, I managed to turn it into a good house. Impressed my future in-laws enough that they finally allowed me to Bond with Shock and never again brought up the ‘citybot/Decepticon’ gig,” Brimstone said, shrugging.

“So you just… went from warrior to farmer, like that?” Bulkhead asked with a frown.

“I never was much of a warrior to begin with,” Brimstone pointed out. “And living here as a simple energon farmer suited me. I regret little of having left the Decepticons. Never once did I try to sabotage the mechanicrops or play spy or anything. Even if I had been inclined to do so, I hardly think I’d had found the time between the work, the Sparklings and a very devoted Endura,” he said with a small smile.

“And you expect us to believe it?” Sentinel snapped. “You dare to say you have never contacted the Decepticons?! We know for sure you did, you…!”

“I never said I had never contacted them,” Brimstone pointed out. “And as a matter of fact, I never did. I did use the radio we had left, true, which emitted on Decepticon frequencies, but not to call the Headquarters or any Higher ups. No, I only used it twice, in order to contact Blight.”

“Your brother,” Bulkhead said quietly.

Brimstone had a pale smile. “Yeah. My brother, who never knew what became of me. As far as I know, I’m still listed as MIA, and I don’t intend for it to change. But that… my disappearance… It hit Blight badly. Though he never believed I had been deactivated, he was very depressed at my lack of news. Searched for me himself, he did,” he said quietly, with some fondness. “Can you believe that he just kept a comm open for me and only me with the old frequencies ever since I crashed here, in the middle of the Great War? He had always hoped I’d call one day with a good excuse -- having been taken prisoners, having gotten amnesia,... that sort of things.”

“And how did you learn about that?” Bulkhead again, quiet but suddenly intense.

“Neutral traders in Riverbend,” Brimstone said simply, shrugging. “Some of them do commerce with the Decepticons, and from time to time, I went and asked them for news or just listened to their talks of travel. Then one solar cycle, someone bought up Blight in the conversation. Sure, they didn’t give his name, but I recognized his description, and what they were talking about… it was so much like him it couldn’t be anyone else,” he said, shaking his head. “And it just… struck me. I mean, I had ignored him and not even given him a thought for thousands of stellar cycles, when he was the only family I had. So… I tried to make contact with him. And I managed to. Twice. Told him I was alive… and that didn’t intend on coming back. I enjoy my life as it is now. Being a Decepticon bought me little except getting shot at and working with worrisome nutcases I’d like to never see again. Not that Blight didn’t understand about that; he worked in toxic warfare too for a while. Told him I had Bonded and had a large family. He almost verbally killed me when I told him all about it,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “Truthfully, it wasn’t pretty. But we made peace… sort of. He missed me, and he doesn’t really want to lose me again… even if it’s doubtful we ever seen each other face to face ever again as long as I work on my farm and he continues to serve with the Decepticons. I had planned to talk to him again in some time, just so I could be sure Aubobots hadn’t picked on my signal.” He looked at the two mechs before him with a small smile. “Look like I was right to be worried,” he said.

“Yes you were,” Sentinel spat. “Decepticon Brimstone, in the name of the Elite Guard, I arrest you for…”

“We aren’t arresting anyone, Sentinel,” Bulkhead cut him out.

“WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘WE AREN’T ARRESTING ANYONE’,” the Prime shouted, shocked and angry.

“Just what I said,” the green mech stated calmly. “Brimstone here is a Decepticon deserter. There’s is no special policy for arresting former Decepticons. As I remember, there are a couple of them on planets such as Velocitron or Junk,” he pointed out.

Sentinel sputtered. “This… this is different! These mechs have been properly tried and their defection officially recognized by the Courts! This is not the case for Brimstone or Tidalwave! They must be arrested!”

“On which basis? From what Brimstone said, he hadn’t been an active solder since the middle of the Great War, and Ultra Magnus did issue an amnesty for enemy bots who laid down their weapons before a certain part of the conflict, on the promise they would never rejoin their former faction, knowingly sabotage the Commonwealth or try to create insurgence on Cybertron. I think he qualifies, no?”

Sentinel looked at him with a mixed look of anger and consternation. Brimstone looked at them both and chuckled. “You make quite the pair. Sentinel?” he asked the Prime casually. “You might want to listen to him. I’m not too sure about the stuff he’s talking about, but me and Tidalwave have been nothing but good, upstanding citizens since we were here. Under Agri III’s laws, of which we are citizens before being members of the Commonwealth, we can’t be convicted of anything, seeing as we committed no crime on the planet.” Sentinel looked like he had bit into a Lead-Lemon as he heard that. Brimstone made a small smile. “Beside, I get the feeling that if Cybertron’s authorities had wanted to arrest Tidalwave and I, they would have done so a long time ago.”

“What do you mean?” Sentinel looked up at him in anger.

Brimstone raised an optic ridge. “Sure, the townsfolk of Primus’ Blessing greeted us with open arms and allowed us to join their community, but remember what I told you? About Shock’s family not seeing us together with a good optic? That kinda was because I was still a Decepticon, still bearing the brand, and a lot of bots saw it back then. Some of them weren’t sympathetic to our situation or Neutrals at all. I’m almost sure I was denounced to the authorities, though nothing ever came from this. Dunno why…”

Sentinel watched him with his mouth open. “We… found out recently that the latest Head of Intelligence was a Decepticon spy,” Bulkhead coughed. “Ever heard of Shockwave? It is very possible he learned about you and never reported you to anyone.”

Brimstone raised both optic ridges. “That… would explain a few things,” he allowed. “Still, even without saying anything, the Shockwave I remember tended to make notes and files. I trust Intelligence was overtaken by someone else by now? So someone must have found out bout me and ‘Wave. I very much doubt they’re ignorants anymore. Which kinda imply they decided we weren’t a threat and chose to let us alone, don’t you think?”

“Th… that’s ridiculous!” Sentinel sputtered. “They wouldn’t…!” Bulkhead just rumbled. Brimstone… was having a point. What he was saying made a lot of sense. Now, was it really the truth, that… was quite another thing.

“I’m just saying,” Brimstone shrugged. “For orbital cycles, I’ve lived with the threat of an Autobot raid on the farm to kill me or take me away. Now that Autobots are manifesting themselves, it’s with an undercover mission, with the express purpose of finding Decepticons or spies. That said, someone, somewhere, aside of Shockwave, must have known already who the Decepticons you were seeking were.” He leaned back in his chair. “Now, what you should ask yourself is: if they knew about us, why have they sent you here?”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blurr has some explanations to give, and also shares news. Sentinel is unhappy (but it's not unusual and it's justified), and Bulkhead realizes part of what Intelligence had in mind when they send them on Agri III.

:: _Yes, we did know about the Decepticon presence on Agri III for quite some time. Or at least, some of us did,_ :: Blurr allowed quietly. The lithe mech on the screen was sitting behind a huge desk and looked very tired.

Now, the two Autobots knew they should only have used the interstellar comm. system in case of emergency, but Sentinel thought it did qualify as one, and Bulkhead had relented. And Blurr… well, Blurr couldn’t fault them, since they did fulfill their mission’s objectives. Kinda.

Bulkhead shuttered his optics taking a deep breath, vents working hard to calm down. Next to him, Sentinel was almost frothing at the mouth. His whole body was shaking in rage and he was tightening his fists every few kliks, knuckles hurting, almost to the point of injury.

Very calm, Blurr pursued. :: _Of course, it was a rather… recent discovery. After… after Shockwave was unmasked, we passed a comb through all his files, especially the most heavily encrypted ones. Sadly, we couldn’t break them all before they started to self-erase or destruct, and though we managed to recover some infos, a lot of… of the Decepticon’s personal logs had been lost, and those that remained were spotty at best. We didn’t have much details, but we had enough to make elaborate guesses and do background checks on some individuals. It helped us unmask a few traitors to be or bots who had gotten caught in nasty situations and were blackmailed into doing the Decepticons’ bidding. But this is not what interest you, is it?_ :: he said, sighing, as Sentinel gave him a glare.

“No it’s not!” The Prime snapped. “Why send us on a useless mission if you already knew everything?!”

:: _Now, Sentinel Prime, we hardly knew everything,_ :: Blurr cut out, optics narrowed. :: _We only knew of Decepticons being ON the planet, long before the transmissions we intercepted were send. Now, we had gathered they had been here for long, but we had no idea of what plans they were working on, no ideas of their level of threat, and no identities to try and hunt them down. However, since the file mentioning them was old, we had deemed it low priority… until the radio transmissions happened, by which point we decided to send someone to investigate,_ :: he explained. :: _We thank you for your efforts, both of you, in finding the identities of Decepticons Brimstone and Tidalwave, residing on Agri III,_ :: he said formally. :: _It will be mentioned in your updated files._ ::

“Are you going to come and arrest them at long last, now that you know who they are?” Sentinel asked, twitching.

Blurr paused. :: _... Not for now, I’m afraid._ :: Sentinel outraged cry made Bulkhead sighs and mutter a ‘told you so’. :: _Hear me out, Sentinel. Although Brimstone and Tidalwave have been outed and confirmed as Decepticons, they’ve not been caught in anything illegal. Background checks on them show they’re outstanding citizens, nothing else. No act of sabotage can be linked to them ever since they registered as official citizens of Agri III upon their Bonding with their current Enduras. Had we not intercepted what you said was a private conversation upon an old Decepticon frequency, and had we not seen Shockwave’s files, we would have never even guessed they existed. Now, we could arrest them on the general principle of them being Decepticons, but Ultra Magnus outlawed this practice about a hundred of vorns ago, unless said Decepticons were shouting first or were part of Megatron’s High Command -- or Megatron himself, of course. Since Brimstone and Tidalwave didn’t start a fight with the locals or the Autobots present on the planet, and since they were what appear to be low ranking soldiers before they ‘officially deserted’, we can’t accuse them of anything justifying the intervention of Cybertron. Any matter concerning them would first have to go through Agri III’s Courts, and given the rather Neutral tendencies of the planet, we very much doubt they’ll be find guilty of anything,_ :: he finished slowly.

Funny, now that Bulkhead thought about it. Ever since Blurr had been rebuilt, he had tended to favor slower speech. They could understand him just fine. There was a long silence after Blurr finished speaking. Bulkhead recognized it as the sign of an imminent explosion on Sentinel’s part and he braced himself.

“Are you honestly telling me,” the Prime started in a low, deceptively calm voice, “that I came here…got Bonded… got slagging fragged… had to listen to inane gossips and comments from interface-crazed mechs… spend whole night cycles doing recon… spend even more time spying… suffered through more indignities that I care to list, including losing my valve cover, wearing a dress and lingerie… and got Sparked… all that for NOTHING?!”

Bulkhead winced. The last word had been shrieked so strongly his audios actually rung. Impartial, Blurr remained very calm on the screen. Clearly, the comm system mustn’t have given him the full measure of Sentinel’s voice… that, or he had heard it so much before he had gotten used to the noise.

:: _I would hardly say your mission was done for ‘nothing’, Sentinel. It did serve to confirm the identity of two Decepticons and evaluate their level of threat -- even if that level is very poor. And that said, it also helped to highlight a problem in the Space Bridge network,_ :: he pointed out.

“A problem?” Bulkhead said, leaning forward, vaguely worried. Space Bridges were his speciality, after all, and even if he was enjoying himself with the farm, he still liked it very much. To learn the network could have a problem… it made the Maintenance bot inside him sputter in panic.

:: _You might have noticed that Agri III and the nearby planets are not very well served by the network, nor by any transport, aside of the commercial ships coming to get the mechanicrops and energon mixes back to Cybertron and the other planets of the Commonwealth. The nearest Bridge, as you know, is Athenia, which is still a remarkable distance away. It doesn’t help the civilian cruisers to develop, as you can guess. For a while now, the Commerce Guild had been trying to make a clear audit of their systems and profits. Although they haven’t quite finished it yet, their last reports does show that the transport by ships to Athenia before heading to Cybertron or other parts of the Commonwealth was starting to be inefficient and too time and energy-costing. As such, they have started pressing Emirate Xaaron of the Senate as well as the Council to deblock funds for the creation of a new Space Bridge nearest the agricultural planets. The contact difficulties we had in joining you on the planet did put even more arguments in their favor, and the Intelligence Office does support them in their endeavor. As we speak, the decision has officially been taken and a budget is still under vote. A technical team will be chosen shortly to help with the construction, under the orders of the best engineer we can find._ ::

Bulkhead blinked and smiled slowly. “That’s… very good to hear. It would certainly be nice for the inhabitants to have a nearby Space Bridge. Wish I could see it,” he sighed.

:: _Why wouldn’t you?_ ::

“Well, since we’ve finished here, we’re going to head back to Cybertron soon, no?” Bulkhead said, shrugging. Because that was bound to happen now. He’d miss the farm, but… he was still an Autobot, and he couldn’t resign like that. He… he couldn’t drop Optimus and Ratchet and Prowl and his little yellow buddy like that. Even if the farm life was good and it had been nice to grow crops again. Besides, Sentinel wanted to go back to Cybertron so much, and there was no way Bulkhead let him out of his sight or reach, especially while he was carrying their Bitlets. That was what he’d need to focus on from now on: the Bitlets and their happiness, since it was doubtful Sentinel would really try and bond with them.

Sentinel was nodding along with Bulkhead’s words, his spark swelling in joy. Finally he was going to be able to let this backwater planet behind him! Sure, he was still Carrying and was going to have two Bitlets he didn’t want to have and raise, but he’d be back to his station and able to work on more serious things, not play housewife to a lowly, clumsy technician who had a nice, large spike…

… and curse the energon farmers and Bulkhead for having lead him to consider it nice!

:: _Actually, Bulkhead… your orders, as well as Sentinel, are to stay here until further notice,_ :: Blurr coughed.

The green mech’s optics widened just as Sentinel’s jaw dropped and he shrieked.

“SAY WHAT?!” He must have misheard… or it was a poor, tasteless joke.

:: _I said: your orders are to remain here until further notice,_ :: the lithe blue mech repeated. :: _Especially you, Bulkhead. Your status as the foremost expert on Space Bridge in all the Commonwealth has been brought to light before the Council, and the Commerce Guild is already pushing to get you named head of the project. If everything continues this way, you’ll be officially called upon to lead the construction under a decacycle, after which you’ll be asked to choose a team of your choice to assist you in the creation of that Bridge. After which, the Commerce Guild is insisting on someone very good at his job to remain on the planet and take care of the maintenance of the future Bridge,_ :: He winked discreetly at the green mech, who started to smile.

Clever, clever Blurr… he could already see where this was going. “So, if I, say, chose to ask for my old team to help me…?” he asked casually.

:: _They would be granted to you without any problem. I can’t officially tell you Optimus is ready to jump on the occasion, nor can I officially tell you that Prowl is better and eager to get away from Cybertron, of course._ ::

Bulkhead almost laughed as multiple dots connected at once in the back of his CPU. A so, so clever plan. Intelligence had well-planned it all… or rather, Blurr had well-planned it all, he was almost sure. Or… well, he didn’t know who had played Mastermind, and he wasn’t sure he was seeing everything there was to see, but the green mech could guess. It was so evident, when one thought about it.

They were getting them away from Cybertron, in an official way. Something nobody could object to, so Optimus -- and the rest of their team, though no one had really tried until now, due to secrecy on their respective identities -- wouldn’t be caught any longer in power games.

More than that, they had combined it with multiple objectives at once, Bulkhead dimly realized.

Intelligence was trying to get back on its feet after the Shockwave debacle. They had needed someone here to assess a threat the office already knew about -- and perhaps in more details than what Blurr had revealed. Their best way to do it would be an undercover mission, for which they needed someone well-versed in farm life… which Bulkhead was. Since it was a rather isolated planet, they could discreetly push the right bots into thinking about said isolation, and prompt them into thinking about constructing a new Space Bridge. Right on the planet the main expert in the Commonwealth was residing, ready to start to work. Now, Bulkhead would just have to request his team members to help him, and nobody would be the wiser.

However, there was still a potential threat on this planet, even if they thought it was a low one. That were Bulkhead thought he understood the second half of their plan. Intelligence couldn’t spare overly qualified personnel for something so simple, and they needed a convenient excuse to get the currently very unpopular Sentinel Prime away from the planet, the politics and anything where he could inadvertently cause damage, really.

So what better then to send him along with Bulkhead? The fact they needed them to get Bonded was certainly planned -- though he doubted very much they had actually planned on Sentinel getting sparked. That said, it certainly helped them along. By having them Bonded and a couple, they could… Well, he wasn’t too sure what they expected about Sentinel; perhaps they had thought Sentinel would eventually retire, since there were few Bonded bots in the upper echelons of the Elite Guard? Anyway, they had managed to get Sentinel away and wrestle him in a position of their choosing, assuring themselves he wouldn’t cause any more damage while allowing him the illusion he would still be able to become the future Magnus -- which Bulkhead perfectly knew was impossible.

It was probably cruel to Sentinel, but… it was certainly kinder than stripping him from his rank and sending him away in disgrace, for even if the mech was a blowhard and a jerk and not always nice, he was still loyal and thinking he was acting for the best, even when he wasn’t. Suddenly, he wanted to just grab the Prime and cuddle with him, to reassure him it would be alright and that he would take really good care of him… and their sparklings.

Of course, Sentinel didn’t see it. Wherever he had yet to gather the clues or had picked up on them and was stubbornly refusing to see them, Bulkhead didn’t know, but it was obvious the Prime had yet to face the truth.

“That’s very nice and all,” he said flatly. “I get why the oaf must stay, but I have nothing more to do here! I need to go back to Cybertron now!”

:: _I’m afraid it’s not quite as simple, Sentinel,_ :: Blurr said carefully. :: _I mean, we can’t expect you to come back to active duty while you’re in such a… ‘delicate state’._ ::

_‘Delicate state?’_ Sentinel mouthed several times in disbelief. “I’m Carrying! It’s no reason for me to stop working! According to the Elite Guard Codex, I…”

:: _According to say Codex, paragraph 426, alinea 3, you’re liable to get an extended leave should your superiors decide it is needed, which is the case. By the way, I’d like to transmit you the congratulation of the Council, some of our co-workers and the Magnus on your upcoming Creatorhood,_ :: he said with a small smile. Sentinel twitched. Blurr’s face became serious once more. :: _Consider yourself on official leave until the birth of the Sparklings you are bearing… leave which might get prolonged until they’re big enough to not need your constant supervision._ ::

“That’s… that’s perfectly unfair,” Sentinel sputtered. “How can he” he pointed at Bulkhead “get to go back to his assigned work and I don’t?!”

Blurr’s face stayed blank. :: _Because his skills are currently invaluable to the Guard and the Guilds Domesticus. Yours are less so due to the changes currently being done to the internal organisation of the Guard._ ::

“Changes? Which changes?” Sentinel twitched again, jaws clenched. “Don’t tell me you’re firing me to have me replaced by… by Optimus!”

:: _We’re not firing you, Sentinel,_ :: Blurr pacified him. :: _And we’re not replacing you with Optimus. He refused to take any active role in the Elite Guard management. His wishes are currently to go back his normal job which, as you know, consists of repairing and maintaining Space Bridges. Simply, we want you to not presume too much of your strength by going back to a tiresome work too soon, for none of us would like you to lose the Sparklings you’re bearing by overworking yourself. And, if you really need an occupation, the Guard might arrange for you to do some work for Agri III’s High Council… assuming you’re open to the idea._ ::

“Yeah, right,” he snorted, unhappy. “Jobs like handing them paperwork and arranging their meetings, I bet. I’m not a secretary!”

:: _But you have the training, given the desk job you once did for the Guard,_ :: Blurr pointed out, :: _and such skills would be considered invaluable to the ruling authorities._ :: The glare he received in turn clearly told him Sentinel wasn’t convinced at all. Not that Blurr minded; Sentinel’s mood wasn’t his problem, he was just transmitting the orders as levelly and peacefully as he could.

Now, it would be up to Bulkhead to sooth the Prime’s frayed CPU.

:: _I’ll contact you as soon as I can,_ :: the Agent stated simply, :: _Blurr: out._ ::

And with that, the screen went black. There was a long silence during which Bulkhead fidgeted a little, unsure if he should say or do something. His Spark went out to Sentinel and wanted to cuddle him. Processor was firmly advising he’d wait until the Prime made the first move or the first sound before doing anything. Survival instincts, on the other hand, were screaming at him to get the Pit out of here while he still could.

His CPU finally won the mental fight, and the large mech remained as quiet and still as he could as he watched Sentinel’s back. The Prime hadn’t moved at all since Blurr had ended the call. His hands tightened in fists from time to time, but that was it.

“I can’t believe… the nerves of them… fraggers, all of them… going to… wish someone kill them all…” he started to mumble, and Bulkhead’s shoulders sagged in relief. It seemed the Prime wasn’t quite as angry as he had feared after all. 

“I’m sorry, Sentinel,” he said quietly.

He regretted speaking almost as soon as the Prime started to turn toward him. His optics were nearly white in rage. “You. That’s all your fault!” he shrieked as he threw himself at Bulkhead, dental plates bared.

Yelping, the Space Bridge technician caught his by the arms and held him at some distance of him to try and avoid getting hit as the Prime tried furiously to get free and hit and kick him. Bulkhead took a few kicks in the legs which made him whimper in pain, but his hold stayed firm. It took a while for the Prime to stop fighting, the kicks slowly losing their strength and decreasing in intensity and number until Bulkhead was only holding a quiet, shaking mech.

“They had no right… no right to do that to me,” he said, his voice shaking a bit.

Bulkhead gathered him in his arms and made him sit in his laps. The Prime tried to get away, but it was token resistance as much. Bulkhead just held him close by, nuzzling his face against his neck. “It isn’t so bad…” he tried.

“Not so bad?!” Sentinel twitched and looked at him as if he was crazy. “I’m stuck on a backwater planet, forced on a leave, with no possibility to try and repair whatever damages my reputation went through! Do you have any idea just how many people have been lurking and eyeing my position?! Can you only imagine what kind of rumors they must have spread about me while I was gone and unable to defend myself?! Do you have any idea of how much time it’s going to take me now to manage to get back to my position of the Magnus’ de facto successor? Ah!!! I bet it’s them who did that and convinced Intelligence to let me rot here! ‘Delicate state’ indeed! I’ve known Primes who never missed a work shift until they were close to the point of delivering, and even then, they were back before the orn was up! What do they think, that I’m not able to handle it?! Noooo, of course not! Now I need to restart my career practically from the start! Do you have any idea of how hard I worked to get where I am?! What, you think it was easy, rising through the ranks with a background as common as mine? I was lucky I caught the optics of the right bots at the right times! But even then, I had to fight to prove I was actually worth something! Senators can only provide so much good publicity and advices! And you can bet they won’t supply me with good references anymore if things continue this way! Now I’m back to square one, without support! How can you say it isn’t ‘so bad’?!”

Bulkhead privately thought that nobody could spread rumors more damaging to Sentinel then some of his actions had already started. Closing Maccadam’s, for example, hadn’t gathered him any fan, quite the contrary in fact. As for one solar cycle becoming Magnus… Sentinel was pretty deluded if he thought he still had a chance. At least he seemed lucid enough to understand the Senate wouldn’t back him up in anything from now on -- and it surprised Bulkhead they did in the first place. From his understanding, they tended to support mechs of richer background than the Prime, unless somebot had something special to offer. As Ultra Magnus’ heir apparent (given his high place in the hierarchy at the time), Sentinel had had that special something. Now, in disfavour and with the public backlash over his short tenure as Acting Magnus… Well, Sentinel wasn’t fooling himself about their reaction. Of course, since he ignored pretty much everything else, the green mech could only remain puzzled at Sentinel and his inability to see the full picture.

How had Optimus put it, once? Ah, yes, he had said Sentinel had a knack to see reality as he saw fit to. Sadly, reality didn’t always match with his views. It sounded like he was pretty much in denial. Bulkhead thought briefly about telling him what he thought exactly of the situation, but decided against. He didn’t need another fight on his hands, and well… it would have been cruel to crush Sentinel’s hopes like that.

Awkwardly, he patted his Endura and continued to nuzzle him, staying silence as Sentinel started to rant about the unfairness of it all. Hadn’t he been a good, perfect soldier? He had followed the rules to the letter and even the Magnus had complimented him on his ability to get things done! To have him step down just because he was sparked and because some mechs had spread rumors on him was perfectly unfair and unjustified! Perhaps he could talk to one of his old mentors… a retired Senator who had shares in the factory producing the standard Guard weapons, see if perhaps he would be willing to slip a good word for him… Bulkhead just nodded along whenever the Prime paused before starting to go on another tirade.

Typical Sentinel, he mused as he let one of his hands slid under the Prime’s skirt and start to stroke his thighs. The moment wasn’t perfect, but having Sentinel like that in his lap and feeling the heat of his frame against him was very alluring and he could already feel his spike stiffening behind his panel. Interface would make them both relax, and even if it didn’t, it would have the merit to cut short Sentinel’s latest rant.

“Just what do you think you’re doing!” he yelped as one of Bulkhead’s claws started to tease the edge of his valve, making him squirm and try to get away, to no avail as Bulkhead held him tight. To his utter mortification, he was lubricating already, heat spreading between his legs and valve throbbing in anticipation. Slag, he sounded like an addict!

“I thought it is fairly obvious,” the larger mech pointed out as his panel slide aside, releasing his spike which started to rise proudly out of its housing. With one hand, he pushed aside the fabric of the skirt, looking appraisingly at the pair of lacy white crotchless panties underneath, deliciously framing the tight, wet valve of his Endura. Sentinel’s thighs were trembling even as drops of lubricant slide out of his port and stained the edge of the lace underwears. “Primus, you’re beautiful,” he murmured reverently.

“Cut this out,” the Prime grumbled, still trying to get away but only succeeding in rubbing his thighs against Bulkhead’s length, making the green mech’s engines revv. “I’m not in the mood.” Even as he said that, his valve clenched over nothing and he had to whimper softly, making Bulkhead chuckle.

“So you say,” he commented as he aligned his spike with his mate’s valve and started to press the tip of his rod inside.

“I’m still angry at you,” the Prime warned, still trying to get away even as his valve started to stretch with the beginning of the penetration. “That’s… ah… your fault… I’m… I’m struck here!” he gasped as Bulkhead’s rod started to slowly sink in.

“Yes dear,” Bulkhead answered absentmindedly as he continued to sink him, his hands on either side of Sentinel’s hips to guide him down and the Prime, despite his grumbling, held his skirt up so his mate had a good view of his length disappearing into him. So, so hot, Bulkhead thought as he purred.

“I’m going to frag you long, and hard, until you can’t walk straight,” he warned the Prime, rumbling. “I’ll take you all night, everywhere in that house, filling you with my transfluids, making sure your valve milk out every. Single. Drop,” he continued as the Prime whimpered, nodes already stimulated by Bulkhead’s thrusts. “I’m going to frag you until you can’t even think anymore.”

That was the best he could offer; not only it would stop Sentinel from ranting and over thinking about the situation, but it would also be very beneficial to their developing sparklings, who could use all the fluids he could give them to grow as big and strong as they could. It certainly wasn’t all Sentinel needed, but Bulkhead was at lost on what else he could do.

“Hmmm,... don’t… don’t wanna,” Sentinel moaned, trying to thrash. Even as he said that, his hands, still clutching the edge of his dress, immediately sought his Conjunx’s arms and gripped them for dear life as his hips started to rock with the thrusts.

Bulkhead smiled a bit. “Oh, I think you do. I really, really think you do,” he said as Sentinel’s valve clenched hard around his length.

And after that, there was little time to talk anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'ra a couple more chapters to go, mainly dealing with the rest of the gang arrival, a bit more about Intelligence's goals, and then the Epilogue. That's right, it's almost over, folks. :)


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the team joins Bulkhead and Sentinel... and it kinda startles Sentinel.

“I’m so happy to see you Prowl!” Bulkhead shouted, refraining himself from hugging the Cyberninja, who gave him a small smile. He sometimes forgot his strength, and accidentally injuring Prowl was the last thing he wanted.

“And I’m happy to see you, Bulkhead,” he answered as Jazz helped him settle down in one of the couches, hovering near him like a Robo-Chicken would with a newly born offspring. Not that Bulkhead blamed him. Prowl didn’t look very healthy. The mech had stumbled, for Pit’s sake, and Prowl never stumbled! His colors were a bit pale, though nothing as pale as they had been the last time Bulkhead had seen him, back in one of Cybertron’s clinics. It honestly was a relief to see him out of Spark support and walking out on under his own power.

Calmly, the Cyberninja gazed around, detailing the room. “You have a very fine house,” he finally said.

Bulkhead shuffled. “Ah, uh… thank you. Sentinel made a lot of effort to clean it up and to add little personal touches. He’s the one who made the cushions, you know,” he added as he pushed one out of the seat so he could sit down.

Prowl raised an optic ridge. “Is that so? Surprising.”

Bulkhead coughed, nervously glancing at the door to check if the Prime hadn’t come back in, but no. He was still outside helping Ratchet and Optimus unload. Arcee, the femme he wasn’t so well acquainted with, was also helping them.

Shady Acres was going to get much more lively for a while, it seemed. When he had received the official notification he was now responsible for the new Space Bridge construction, he had immediately commed his friends. Surprisingly -- or perhaps not so surprisingly, since Blurr must have planned and told them to prepare long before -- Optimus and Ratchet had already been ready to go, just waiting for his signal. They had brought Arcee with them, for the Femme was uncomfortable staying on Cybertron alone just yet.

Bulkhead felt sympathy for her. The years she had spent in coma since the Great War had stole her life, bits by bits. Most of her friends hadn’t made it out of the fights alive, and although she longed and wanted to reprise her role as a tutorbot, she couldn’t as long as she hadn’t been cleared. And for that, she needed to pass a number of tests and exams of general knowledge she couldn’t answer just yet, given how many things she had missed out over the vorns. For now, she was preparing her exams and clung to Sentinel and Omega Supreme like lifelines. And Ratchet, of course, wouldn’t let go of her like that, for he liked her too much.

No wonder Optimus had thought the medic had had a thing for her. Thankfully, this misunderstanding had been cleared out, and Ratchet and Optimus were now an official couple… or very near being one, Bulkhead supposed. Good. Optimus needed someone to love him and take care of him, and Ratchet wasn’t one to stand idly and let anyone abuse his friends, and less so his lover.

Jazz had been so kind as to share a little, possible meeting between the old medic, a couple of Senators who wanted to use Optimus’ new fame for some plot, and Omega Supreme at the medic back with charged weapons aimed at them…

Yes, with the medic by his side to make sure he was alright, he didn’t doubt Optimus’ life would turn out to be much easier.

“Care to eat a little something, my mech?” Jazz asked as he handed Prowl a plate of Copper-Cookies the other Cyberninja looked at appraisingly.

“Sentinel’s work too, I suppose?”

“And if it is? That’s a problem for you?” the aforementioned Prime groused as he entered, dropping a case on the floor. He glared at Prowl, daring him to say anything.

The Cyberninja just looked at the Prime, taking in the red dress and the little white apron, the hands the Prime had on his hips and his scowl. He just shook his head briefly. “No at all. I thank you for these…treats and for your hospitality,” he said simply.

Sentinel’s scowl lessened. “Right… enjoy yourself. I’ve another tray in the oven, so take as many as you want.” And with that, he went back outside.

Jazz whistled. “Wow. SP sounds like he has mellowed some. Carrying is getting to him?” he asked Bulkhead. He had keenly noticed the slight bulge under Sentinel’s dress, and he could bet Prowl, despite being currently unhealthy, had too. Sure, it wasn’t a big one, but an observant bot could still notice the way the fabric fell unevenly around the Prime’s abdomen.

Bulkhead rubbed his helm. “Uh, kinda? Perhaps? He just might be in a good mood; it’s a bit hard to say with him sometimes.”

Prowl nodded slowly. “I bet,” he said simply. “It was a… big surprise for me to learn that you were going to have a sparkling with Sentinel. Well, two sparklings,” he amended. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

Bulkhead beamed. “Thank you!” he looked at Prowl for a moment and bit his lips. “I, uh… I hope it doesn’t bother you to live under the same roof as him for a moment? Optimus said he didn’t mind and Arcee and Ratchet either, but…”

Prowl smiled. “I don’t mind at all. Sentinel is hardly the biggest evil I have faced. And it is only temporary. If anything, I’m sorry to be a bother by forcing you to welcome me here too…”

“Don’t ever say you’re a bother, Prowl,” Bulkhead warned him. “You’re not! You’re one of the bravest mech I ever met and I’m honored to be your friend.”

Jazz sighed. “That’s pretty cool, my mech, but can the two of you stop now? Nobody is a bother for anyone. We’re a big family, dig it? Now, Prowl, you refuel, and Bulkhead… you refuel too I guess,” he said with a wink as he grabbed a Copper-Cookie for himself.

There were laughs as the two Autobots followed his lead, soon joined by Sentinel, Optimus, Ratchet and Arcee. Bulkhead watched them refuel and chat with a light Spark. If only Bumblebee and Sari had been able to make it, he couldn’t have been happier. Sadly, Sari was still on Earth, and Bumblebee had decided to go through additional training in order to eventually join the Elite Guard. From the way Blurr had said it when he had transmitted the news, it was clear the blue mech didn’t approve.

Calmly, he watched his guests while sipping at his cube. Sentinel was sitting next to him, his usual sulky self, though he did speak politely, and even with some enthusiasm, to Arcee, who questioned him on a matter of issues relating to the Elite Guard, in which she had served during the Great War -- though she never wore their symbol; she probably would have had she become Omega Supreme’s mentor as was planned, but Fate had decided otherwise. It was amazing how she managed to get him to talk. The Femme herself was nibbling on a Cobalt-Cupcake with a smile and seemed very interested in Sentinel’s answers, making him feel valued. Truly, Bulkhead was starting to like her more and more.

Prowl was mostly silent, eating and drinking slowly and carefully, and occasionally participated to the discussion in which Jazz, Ratchet and Optimus were engaged in. Jazz was holding one of his hands tightly, though he didn’t even seem to notice it, and Prowl wasn’t cluing him in. Bulkhead had to refrain himself from chuckling. How cute; they’d made a good couple, truly. As for Optimus and Ratchet… well, the boss-bot was leaning against Ratchet quietly, in a rather shy way, but not ashamed of doing so, and Ratchet let him. It was good, Bulkhead decided, nodding.

His family was here and happy. What could he ask for more?

“Bulkhead? Sentinel? Can I come in?” someone called from the door, and Sentinel immediately went to his feet to go open and welcome their visitor. It made Bulkhead smile in pride. Sentinel was looking more and more like a worthy Endura with each passing day. Sure, he was still abrasive and ill-tempered, but he was fulfilling his duties readily, and that counted for a lot.

… Was it wrong of him to think that?... Perhaps. However, he couldn’t complain about Sentinel being, well, nicer.

“Lifespring! How nice to see you,” he greeted the newcomer as Sentinel came back with him. There also was a Femme trailing behind them. She was lithe and her body was of a pale shade of green. The veterinary physician looked over the gathering with a kind and curious smile, bowing to everyone and trying to keep the content of the basket he was bearing at his arm from spilling to the floor. The unknown Femme followed his lead, though her optics remained fixated on Arcee for some reason.

“It’s good to see you too, Bulkhead, Sentinel. Greeting, Goodmechs, Goodfemme,” he said kindly to the rest of the company and looked at Bulkhead expectantly, waiting for him to make the presentations first before presenting the Femme with him.

“Oh, right. Lifespring, my friends Optimus, Ratchet, Prowl, Jazz and Arcee. They’re going to help me build the future Space Bridge,” he explained. “Well, Optimus and Ratchet are here to help. Prowl is here to help too, but he’s mainly here on recovery. He has been injured recently and he needs rest, so Sentinel and I proposed to have him stay here for a while. Jazz here came to keep and optic on him and help with some details of the construction. And Arcee has come with Ratchet to broaden her horizons, so to speak. My friends, Lifespring, our charming veterinary physician.”

Hadn’t that been fun to explain to the villagers! Bulkhead wasn’t supposed to be here for that officially, so they had to come up with a good enough cover story. Instead of having totally left the Autobots, Bulkhead was still working part-time for them in a consultative way, as he was an expert on Space Bridges. They hadn’t said before because neither him nor Sentinel had expected to be called upon. However, with the new Space Bridge’s project coming up, Cybertron’s Council had decided Bulkhead was the best choice to work on it, since he was living here on Agri III, on which the new Bridge would be build. People had been surprised, but acceptant and also giddy. A real Space Bridge on their planet! And near their village! Mayor Levitacus had literally glowed for decacycles, already thinking of the political ramifications it could give him. Bulkhead wondered if he should point out to Sentinel the Mayor would need someone to help him sort out things and get the best media coverage of the situation. It would give the Prime something to do and occupy himself…

Lifespring clapped happily. “How wonderful! We were all wondering how many of you we would see! I hope you’ll find yourself happy with your stay, and should any of you need it, we will happily provide any help you’d need,” he said with another bow. The Femme behind him coughed and Lifespring glanced at her with a small smile. “Oh, Bulkhead, Sentinel, you don’t know Moonracer, do you? Moonracer, says ‘hello’, would you?”

“‘lo,” the Femme said shyly, still glancing at Arcee, who watched her with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, she’s a bit shy,” Lifespring chuckled. “She’s Greenlight’s sister. She’ll stay at her sister’s farm for a while and she was curious about you two,” he said to the couple. “So I decided to take her with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Bulkhead said firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet such a lovely Femme,” he said to her with a blow, making Moonracer blush and fidget.

“Pardon me, Sir, but what is a veterinary physician?” Prowl asked, optics narrowed behind his visor.

Lifespring blinked. “Oh, my! I’m a medic specialized in the treatment of livestock and mechanimals in general,” he explained kindly to the Cyberninja. “My tasks include keeping them healthy but also assist them in case of difficult births. Speaking of births… It is, I must say, one such thing that brings me here today, Bulkhead,” he added as he turned toward the large green mech, who blinked.

“Uh? Hows that?”

“Well, I had been hoping you’d be able to take one of them,” he said as he lifted a bit the cover on the basket and reached inside. When he put his hand out again, the room’s occupants were for the most part stunned to see a small Cyberkitten resting in his palm. “They were born last solar cycle to one of my Creations’ Cybercats. However, we can’t keep that litter, and I was trying to see if anybody would be willing to adopt one. Since you and Sentinel don’t have one presently, I thought you’d like one… maybe,” he amended.

Well, it was… it was thoughtful to say the least, Bulkhead thought privately. Honestly, a farm always needed a couple of Cybercats, if only to stop the Glitchmice to infest the cellars and eat the reserves. But Sentinel had no real fondness of mechanimals, and as much as Bulkhead wanted to say ‘yes’, he didn’t think he should without first consulting Sentinel. Even if the Cyberkitten was adorable… “That’s very nice of you, Lifespring, but I don’t know if…” Bulkhead started before he was interrupted by Prowl.

“So this is a real Cybercat? I must say I never seen one before,” the Cyberninja commented, leaning forward in his seat, his visor shining with intensity. “They weren’t very common in the parts of Cybertron where I grew up. Indeed, I think only the Nobles had some, and they seldom left their habitats.”

Lifespring’s optics widened. “Is that so? How sad a planet Cybertron must be, if you can’t find any mechanimal living freely. Bulkhead told me once there was no ChronoCows or BerylliumBulls there. I don’t suppose Petrorabbits or Cyberdogs are current either?”

“I’m afraid not,” Prowl shook his head. “Though Petrorabbits and Glitchmice do exist and infest part of Cybertron, but people only consider them nuisance, despite them being fascinating creatures.”

Lifespring nodded. “That they can be, true.” The Cyberkitten in his hand started to mewl, making Prowl tilt his head as he looked at the newly born mechanimal in curiosity. Lifespring had a soft smile. “Would you like to hold him?”

“You would let me, truly?” Prowl asked, some of his eagerness leaking in his voice.

“Of course. Just be very careful; so young, they’re very delicate,” he warned as he put the small kitten in the Cyberninja outstretched hands. The little thing mewled in distress as changing hands, but stopped immediately as he laid his minuscule optics on the one who was holding him. Prowl brought him closer to his face to examine him. For any onlooker, it seemed that the mech and the mechanimal were peering at each other with the same fascination. It definitely made Jazz chuckle as he noticed.

“Man, seems like you have a big fan Prowlie,” he mused.

“Don’t call me Prowlie,” the Cyberninja answered shorty, never leaving the Cyberkitten out of his sight. He glanced briefly at Lifespring. “You did mention being a veterinary physician? I admit I’m unfamiliar with the profession, and I find myself confused on how one can become one.”

Lifespring had a pale smile. “It doesn’t surprise me. To put it simply, I never took formal medicine studies, not like the ones Counterstep, our Doctor, went through. Most of the things I know were taught to me by my predecessor and his brother, who was his associate. In their opinion, datafiles weren’t bad, but pretty useless when it came to gain actual experience. They encouraged me to read the basis only, then took me with them on every interventions they had to practice, from the birth of a calf to the, sadly, euthanasia of an injured Zap-Pony.”

“It doesn’t sound like the safest way to practice,” Ratchet noted. “Not that I begrudge them that; I’m actually all for practical experience during a formation. However, without a solid theory, one can easily made mistakes in identifying the symptoms.”

“That’s true,” Lifespring acknowledged. “However, you’re a medic, are you not? Taught on Cybertron, which has some of the finest schools in the Commonwealth?” Ratchet nodded slowly. “Well, Agri III doesn’t have that. Farm work occupies most of our time, and leave very little time for other activities. We learn what we can, how and when we can. Bookfiles aren’t so common for us. The closest Public Library is in Riverbend, and it’s too far for most of us to go on an average day. As such, aside of those who really want to become Doctor or Lawyer or who want to join a Guild, we more often than not rely on the teachings of our Creators or neighbors. Some professions just can’t be filled like on a Core world like Cybertron. Few bots chose to become Schoolmasters, for example, so most of our offsprings are taught by the Priests who, even if they do a great job, can’t exactly compete with a real teacher.”

“Wait, what?” Arcee cut in, frowning. “You don’t have a real teacher here? With all the sparklings and younglings I saw while coming?”

“Sadly, no,” Moonracer piped him. "The previous one retired when I was a sparkling myself because of a pump malfunction that was getting to him, and there wasn’t anyone to succeed him, so it’s the Priests who picked up the job after him,” the lithe Femme said, looking at Arcee and blushing slightly.

The pink Femme shook her head. “Unthinkable… Tell me, Lifespring, would the town consider hiring a new teacher, if someone proposed for the post?”

Lifespring blinked. “Well, certainly. I know Mayor Levitacus wants it to happen very badly, but so far nobody was interested. Do you know someone who would be, Miss?”

Arcee smiled. “I was a teacher, once. I had intended to pass examinations to retake my former job somewhere on Cybertron, but I get the feeling I could as well do it here. In fact, I think I could be even more useful here than back on Cybertron.”

Lifespring looked delighted. “That would be wonderful!”

Ratchet frowned. “Arcee, are you sure?” he asked dubiously. The pink Femme nodded firmly.

“Perfectly sure. You know I’m not… feeling as much at ease on Cybertron that I did before,” she said, optics shuttered. “My job as a teacher was one of the things I treasured the most, because it allowed me to help along young Sparks who needed someone to guide them. Cybertron… had changed much during my convalescence. It doesn’t have the same feelings to me anymore, and I was dismayed to discover that Youth Sector had become so much the norm that private schools and educators had pretty much disappeared. Here… I might find myself useful again,” she said.

Ratchet nodded slowly. “Right… I suppose it makes sense…”

That when Sentinel twitched. “Are you saying you intend to stay here? Seriously?” he asked in disbelief, frowning. Obviously, he couldn’t understand how someone could willingly choose to settle here if he or she had better opportunities.

The pink Femme looked at him calmly. “It is my intention, should the Mayor be interested in my candidature and should I pass the exams needed to get back my authorization to teach in an official capacity, yes.”

“And you intend to stay here?” the Prime asked, not looking very happy. It made Bulkhead frown at him in turn and put a hand over his. “I thought whatever temporary guests we had would remain that: temporary guests. If you stay here, it’s going to erase the ‘temporary’ part of the agreement…”

“Sentinel, don’t be rude,” he said. “Arcee is a friend, she can stay as long as she wants to,” he said with a definite edge, warning the Prime he wasn’t going to let him chase her away if he could help it. It earned a non-impressed glare back.

The pink Femme flushed a bit. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought about it. It is your home, and it wouldn’t be very proper for me to impose myself on you should I remain here…”

“Uh, actually, the Schoolmaster got an assigned property, just so you know,” Moonracer commented, looking at Arcee. “It’s a small farm called Blissful Patch. It may need a good cleaning and some repairs to the roofs, and perhaps some new paint for the door and the windows, but it should be liveable and you could go live there quickly. I mean, if Mayor Levitacus still has the keys,” she said, turning to Lifespring.

“He does,” the Endura confirmed. “I’ll try to go and see him on my way back, Miss Arcee,” he said amiably.

“That’s… very kind of you,” the pink Femme answered, but she bit her lips. “Sadly, I may have to decline. Living in a farm also implies -- no, it includes raising mechanimals and growing crops, and I don’t know how to do it…”

“I could help you!” Moonracer jumped in immediately. “I know how to do it all, and my sister told me I needed to pull my weight if I wanted to stay,” she said sheepishly. “I’m sure she wouldn’t object me helping a prospective Schoolmaster settling in. I mean, she takes her and Lancer’s Sparklings’ education very seriously, so she should agree…”

“It’s very kind of you, Moonracer,” the pink Femme said, smiling. Moonracer blushed and Bulkhead raised an optic ridge. Oh oh; did someone have a crush?

Prowl coughed, bringing attention back to him. “As interesting as it is, may we return to the previous subject?” He looked at Lifespring pointedly. “So you’re an experienced mechanimal healer, and you’re part self-taught and part orally taught?” The veterinary physician nodded, bemused. Jazz looked at the other Cyberninja with a raised optic ridge, already guessing what Prowl was trying to hint at.

“Prowler,” he warned, “you’re supposed to rest.”

Prowl gave him a nonplussed look. “And I do intend to. That said, I don’t think walking a bit around the farm and going to listen to Lifespring’s tales and observations on the mechanimals and the wildlife will tire me so much. Do you?”

Bulkhead felt his jaw drop a bit, and obviously he wasn’t the only one surprised. Though, come to think about it, it made some sense. Prowl had always been fascinated by organic life and nature in general. Probably some sort of Cyberninja thing… though Jazz wasn’t as bad. What the black and white mech liked seemed to be culture instead of nature, but the mech also had strange fascination for discoveries. Anyway, it stood to reason that Prowl would jump at the chance to observe or learn more about mechanical animal life forms if he could, since they were obeying nature as well. That said, Lifespring would have been perfectly in his rights to refuse; after all, he was a very busy mech, and Prowl was a stranger to him.

However, the veterinary physician didn’t seem bothered at all. If anything, he looked delighted. “You really want me to teach you? Truly?”

Prowl nodded with a small smile. “It is my hope that I could learn new skills while I’m recovering from my previous… injuries. As mechanimals interest me, I would be eternally grateful if you ever consented to teach me some of your knowledges.” As he spoke, he was absentmindedly petting the Cyberkitten in his hands, the little thing purring quietly in happiness. Bulkhead almost cooed. Optimus actually did.

“They’re adorable,” he said with a smile before he turned toward Ratchet. “Do you think we could get one once we settle together?”

Ratchet shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Though keep in mind that we can’t take one while we live here, it wouldn’t be polite for Bulkhead and Sentinel. It’ll have to wait until we have our own farm, and for that, we need to learn how to farm properly.”

_Wait, what?!_ Bulkhead thought, dazed. That was new. Though Jazz, Prowl and Arcee hardly seemed surprised, Sentinel spit-taked immediately, optics wide in disbelief, the cube he had been holding slipping from his hands and the remaining content staining his apron, though he didn’t seem to notice.

“I must have misheard,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you just say you wanted…?”

Optimus coughed. “Well, yes. It isn’t exactly the way I had planned to announce it, but..;” he gazed at Ratchet as the medic took his hand in his with a nod. “Ratchet and I intend to Bond and… we’re not sure we ever want to go back to live on Cybertron. Agri III… seems a good place to start over, and though we know little of farming, we’ve thought about giving it a try… if, of course, someone would hire us,” he added, flushing in discomfort.

Bulkhead looked at them in dazed silence for a moment before he started to smile. That was… that was pretty wonderful! Lifespring and Moonracer squealed in amazement and happiness, the two already assuring the future-Bonded-couple there would certainly be someone willing to teach them the ropes aside of Bulkhead, for it was always wonderful to see people wanting to try and learn their ways of life and their work.

The green mech lounged comfortably in his seat, looking at his Boss and the irascible medic fondly. Next to him, optics and hands twitching, Sentinel looked at the other Prime as if he had lost his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost over!  
> There should be two more chapters now, plus the epilogue. :)  
> See you around for next part!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus assists to an Endura reunion and seems to settle in nicely in Primus' Blessing, to Sentinel's utter bafflement...

He was really doing it, Sentinel thought in disbelief two decacycles later as he watched Optimus, in deep concentration, pull on a needle and a thread to finish a stitch on a towel, much to the present Enduras’ happiness.

“You’re doing pretty well, Optimus,” Apis praised the newcomer even as she rocked her bornling against her.

Optimus gave her a small, shaky smile. “Ah… thank you. I must look pretty awkward to you…”

“Not at all,” Pollen reassured him as he too rocked his newborn sparkling in his arms. The little thing was looking around with wide, curious optics. “I must say, you look lovely with such a gown. Was it a gift from your Intended?”

“Ah, yes. Ratchet choose it for me. He… he thought it would fit me,” the Maintenance ‘bot said, blushing, eliciting some chuckles as he smoothed the sleeves of his lavender dress.

Sentinel just watched his former friend/somewhat friend, shaking his head. Even after two decacycles, he still couldn’t believe it. Here was Cybertron’s biggest hero -- according to the general populace -- calmly doing embroideries on a backwater planet of the Commonwealth, learning to cook raw mechanicrops for fuel and enjoying it! Just like he seemed to, well, not enjoy, but at least take the dresses he was expected to wear in stride. In fact, he had actually insisted on starting to wear them from day one after his arrival, arguing that if they intended to stay here, it was better for him and Ratchet to start acting like the locals. The only thing he didn’t wear were the panties, since Optimus wouldn’t lose his panel until he was properly Bonded.

Intendeds who prepared themselves to be Enduras weren’t necessarily expected to start wearing the dress symbolizing their status and function before the Bonding, so most didn’t, but it wasn’t unusual either, and Optimus’ decision and his appearance in the Temple for the weekly prayer at Ratchet’s arm, clad in a blue and white dress and with a traditional engagement necklace around his neck, had been met by much approval and squeals of delight by the locals. Soon after, the Enduras had started to invite Optimus to join them in their reunions, and now Bulkhead was driving them both around as he went over the site they had chosen for the construction of the Space Bridge with Jazz and Ratchet, while Arcee stayed at Shady Acres to revise for her upcoming examination, keeping an optic on Prowl as she did so, or going back and forth to Blissful Patch to check on the house and do some repairs herself before even considering to demenage to the small farm, even with the help of the ever helpful Moonracer, who spend her time hanging around wherever Arcee was. When she did, Prowl usually was dropped by Lifespring’s office, where he was deeply entranced in whatever the veterinary physician could teach him.

So far, she was still a ‘guest’ in their house, just like Ratchet and Optimus… and Jazz and Prowl. He couldn’t say he minded the Femme’s presence; he could, at least, have interesting conversations with her. And the two ninja were a lot more tolerable than the crotchety medic and Optimus, especially at night. It was horrifying for Sentinel to hear some of the noise coming from the room the two had taken as their own until further notice. On the other hand, they probably thought the same thing from the noise coming from his and Bulkhead’s room, the green mech being a very dutiful Sire-to-be and insisting on regular interfacing for the sake of the developing Bitlets.

Speaking of them… he glanced down and looked at himself with a frown. The bulge in his plating had extended again; Now there was no denying something was actually growing inside him. It made him shudder. Frag. He didn’t want to become fat and heavy and so swollen he wouldn’t be able to see his pedes! That was in no way appealing, no matter what everybody thought… and what Jazz and Optimus seemed to think either.

Jazz seemed to have gained some sort of fascination with the… with his current state, and Optimus had actually gathered his pathetic courage and asked him how it felt to feel them growing inside him. As if he was going to answer that!

Indifferent to his mental torments, the world was still running its course. Nightglow, who had opened his house for today’s reunion, was looking at Optimus appraisingly. “If so, he really has good taste. The color tone really suits you,” he said as he sipped on some oil and rubbing absentmindedly at his own abdomen. Despite the fact he was carrying for longer than Sentinel, his own bulge was barely noticeable. Of course, the lucky mech wasn’t carrying twins, the Prime thought bitterly.

Optimus coughed. “He does try,” he said amiably, slightly blushing. “I… we’re both really trying. I… I can’t thank you enough for having us helping with your orchard, Pollen. Or with your electrosheeps, Rennet,” he said, turning toward the other Endura. “It’s so new to us…”

“Oh, it’s perfectly normal,” Rennet assured him. “I must say, you and Ratchet worked hard and good. I think we’ll turn you into real farmers yet,” he chuckled.

“Very true,” Pollen added with a grin. “And I think we’ll make a worthy Endura of you in no time. Why, you’re learning even faster than Sentinel did!”

It made Optimus blush as other added their own comments, praising the newcomer on his ability to pick up a recipe so quickly or his fast progresses in needlework. It really stung Sentinel to hear them, though he bit his lips and tried to not show it. Typical. The moment Optimus was here, everything he did or said was better than whatever Sentinel had done or said himself. Everyone was already speaking about what a good Endura he would be once he and Ratchet really Bonded, since he was learning so fast about his future duties.

Well, Sentinel knew he could and was a better Endura than Optimus ever would be! Why, he was carrying twins on his first pregnancy, wasn’t it?!

… And starting to get proud of that was very unsettling and crazy. He was an Autobot! An Elite Guard member! A Prime! He shouldn’t feel any pride in playing housewife! Not like Optimus obviously did as he stumbled into the role.

“Now,” he drawled, “if you keep saying that, I might start to get jealous,” he warned, trying to smile and failing. It looked more like a grimace than a smile.

Optimus shuffled. “There’s nothing to be jealous of,” he insisted. “I’m just lucky with the dishes… and I just try to practice my needlework as much as I can, just like I’m trying to learn all about farming.”

“That’s one task that might take a long time to complete,” Nightglow noted. “Learning to tend to a field or to a tree and to care properly for any mechanimal you’d end raising will take time, perhaps more than two stellar cycles. Sentinel here had the chance to have a Conjunx well-versed in farming, but between you and Ratchet, I fear… Well, it might take you a while to be perfectly autonomous,” he said with a sorry smile.

Optimus nodded gravely. “We do know this,” he said quietly. “But we’re resolute to give it a try, no matter how long it takes us. Ratchet summarized that we could buy a farm for ourselves as soon as possible and live in the house and only tend to a field or two, while continuing to be workmechs all around the village to ‘learn the ropes’. Of course, we still don’t know if it would be compatible with his desire to continue his activities as a medic, and well, we know it isn’t exactly proper for two Intended to live together without being Bonded,” he finished, blushing.

Ah, right, there was that problem, Sentinel thought dismissively. Personally, he didn’t see what would be so bothersome for the energon farmers. Intendeds could frag, after all, so why wouldn’t they let them live together anyway? It wasn’t like Bulkhead and Sentinel really acted as chaperons for the two. Nothing would change… aside perhaps of the couple going through Spark merges, perhaps.

Several of the Enduras exchanged glances. “Well,” Apis started, “I know for a fact Sterling would be delighted if Ratchet offered to take half of Counterstep’s rendezvous so they can have more time for themselves, so I doubt it’d be an issue. Of course, he’d also need to continue farm work, but perhaps that medical thing can wait until your Intended, Goodmech Bulkhead and your common friend… Jazz, is it? Until they have completed that Space Bridge. After that, I think you’ll get more time to decide,” she said with a small nod.

“Not to mention,” Rennet noted, “that you’d first need to buy yourself a farm, and unfortunately, the banks don’t make credits, especially for… for people without a proper experience in farm life,” he said, blushing.

Optimus looked both grim and embarrassed. “We do know that. But… we may actually have the money needed already,” he said, biting his lips. “Ratchet has savings he had never used, coming from way back to the Great War, and I have myself some money on the side. I… did receive a raise and a bonus by doing something… of little importance for the Autobots,” he said dismissively. “So on the financial side, we got it covered.”

Something of ‘little importance’?! Sentinel’s jaw almost dropped; was that how his former friend saw _Megatron’s capture_?! If he needed further proof Optimus was insane, that was it!

The Enduras looked impressed. “You really have that much already?” Nightglow asked. “Well, it does muddy the matters even more, I guess,” he said, pondering. “I mean, you’re both old enough… you’re not younglings needing some advices from their Creators, and one has to concede you both seem ready for living together… But living under the same roof without a chaperone while only being fiancés is just not done,” he finished, biting his lower lip nervously.

Optimus dismayed. “Is there… is there really no way?”

“What about asking one of the Priests? Pastor Alkes, for example,” Pollen suggested. “He could come and live with them for a while, until their Bonding ceremony. You know he did play chaperone for a couple in Primus’ Dale, once.”

Memory downed in Nightglow’s optics. “Ah, right, I remember that one; it was the orphaned future Endura whose house had been damaged in a storm and who had to come live with his Conjunx sooner than they had anticipated, right?”

Pollen nodded. “Yes. Now, if one was to ask him, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind coming to live with another couple for some orbital cycles should it come to that.”

“But a proper Bonding between Ratchet and Optimus might take stellar cycles to happen,” Apis pointed out. “Are you sure he will agree to it?”

“One may always ask, it’s all I say,” Pollen said simply.

Optimus looked both hopeful and worried. “You really think it would be possible? I mean, I don’t mind living with you and Bulkhead, Sentinel,” he said to the other Prime, “but if Ratchet and I really want to stay, it wouldn’t be fair of us to impose upon you for long.”

“Oh, I think we’ll find something,” Sentinel answered without enthusiasm. Truth was, he didn’t know what to think of the situation. It still weirded him out that Optimus actually wanted to abandon Cybertron and his hero status to go burrow himself here with a grumpy old mech as Bonded… to say nothing of the Supreme who would probably be reassigned on the planet on the ground of said grumpy old mech being his partner. The fact Optimus was seriously talking of buying a farm and move in and talking about his future Bonding only drove the point deeper home.

“Trust in Primus, Optimus. I’m sure he’ll help you,” Pollen said. In his arms, Brasspetal fidgeted and started to whine. His Carrier shushed him gently. “Quiet, sweetspark. Are you hungry, little one?” he cooed as he nuzzled the sparkling happily. “Don’t you worry, Sentinel is here,” he said as he glanced fondly at the Prime.

Sentinel raised his optics to the selling and tried not to sigh or curse. It was starting to get ridiculous, to keep feeding that sparkling, he thought even as he unbuttoned the top of his dress to let part of the elaborated garment part, even as his chestplates parted and his pouches started to fill. On the plus side, his… ‘energon production problem’ seemed to have more or less regulated itself since he had started breastfeeding Pollen’s bitlet. He took the bornling from it’s Carrier’s arms without the little creature fussing and placed him carefully in reach of his pouches. Sure enough, the greedy bitlet latched on one of his nubs and started suckling noisily, while Sentinel tried to relax, sewing abandoned until the famished sparkling was full.

Glancing, he saw Optimus watching him with wide optics. “What? Never seen a mech breastfeed a sparkling before?”

“I… can’t say I have,” Optimus answered. He looked in fascination at the display, which amused most of the Enduras.

“That’s probably something you’ll get to see pretty often if you stay,” Rennet said amusedly. “Our Conjuns are very dutiful and keep sparking us up on a regular basis. You’ll find there’s hardly a stellar cycle without someone entering or fulfilling a carrying cycle,” he explained to the red and blue Prime, who looked stunned.

Sentinel sighed. There it was, the incontournable part of about every Enduras reunions.

“That they are,” the until-then quiet Mistcover mentioned, chuckling. “My Auger takes great care in making sure we couple four or five times a solar cycle at the very least, each time longer than the preceding. He has quite the stamina, as you remember,” he said as he bit into a slice of Proto-Peaches tart.

Apis nodded with a grin. “And you think my Cultivator isn’t up to the comparison? If I listened to him, I’d never leave the berth at all, and neither would he. How do you think my little Seedleaf came about?” she said, winking.

“You make me think of Huller,” Pollen said smiling, shaking his head. “Right before we had our first, he was so intent on sparking me he make me bounce on his spike until he was certain I was carrying, which took… oh, all night and half the following morning,” he remember, smiling fondly.

“And you, Optimus?” asked Nightglow as he looked at the lavender-clad mech. “Is your Intended treating you well in such matters?”

The Prime blushed madly. “I… I guess, so,” he sputtered. “I mean… we do… it… regularly… though I don’t feel comfortable speaking about it for now,” he mumbled, ducking his head and trying to not look at anyone, not at the Enduras and not at Sentinel who was still busy feeding Brasspetal.

“Just as shy as Sentinel,” Rennet chuckled. “That’s alright, dear. We won’t ask for details if you don’t feel ready yet,” he said gently, and Optimus nodded in relief.

“I… thank. I mean, I don’t… I don’t exactly mind sharing… but it’s too new for me,” he said diplomatically, relief even more evident in his voice.

Truthfully, Sentinel also felt relieved. There were things he really didn’t want to know and hear about, and the medic and Optimus’ interface life was one. He already knew too much about it already, having accidentally walked on them the other cycle, while they were actually tied together. The medic had apparently a special mod on his spike and… The Prime shuttered his optics, trying to erase the memory from his banks. Optimus, the old relic from the war and interfacing... Oh slag, he hoped it would never come about, even if Optimus really stayed here!

Glancing down at the voracious sparkling feeding from his lines his gaze softened as he saw him with optics dimmed, sure thing he was falling into recharge. Gently, he shifted him, moving him away from his pouches and making him let of of his nub, eliciting small whine from the sparkling, though he quieted down immediately after. Sentinel handed him over to his Carrier with relief and settled back down in his seat, straightening his dress with ease.

“Thank you, Sentinel,” Pollen said quietly as he delicately put the bitlet into a bassinet at his pedes, gently covering him with a small embroidered cover.

The Prime grunted a bit in answer and tried to continue what he had been doing -- a large crocheted poncho for Bulkhead. Frankly, he didn’t know what it would serve for, given Bulkhead rarely put any cloth on, either cape or cloak or even overalls like some of the farmers working in muddy fields. However, an Endura sew and knitted, and Sentinel was getting bored with doing new dresses for himself. That, and he didn’t have the patience or the skills yet to do lace, so…

“Say, Sentinel… it’s almost going to be a stellar cycle since you arrived with Bulkhead,” Nightglow commented, head tilted to the side.

Sentinel blinked at that and quickly checked his internal chronometer and calendar. Well, slag… he thought, dazed. Nightglow was right. It was really almost a full stellar cycle since he had first set a foot on Agri III. He couldn’t believe it. So long… “I… guess so,” he said in a small voice, swallowing. “I can’t say I saw the time pass.” A white lie; he had seen time fly, he just hadn’t really thought about what it represented, so focused as he had been on the mission.

But the mission was over, and he was still here, and unfortunately from what he could gather, he was here for a long while. It made him felt faint.

Nightglow patted him gently. “It’s often the case when you have full days. Have you already thought about what you would do for the reception?” Sentinel looked at him blankly and Nightglow winced. “I knew I needed to tell you about it. I knew it. There are still some customs you aren’t familiar with and that Bulkhead most likely hadn’t given too much thoughts about. Now, don’t be alarmed, dear, it’s alright,” he added as Sentinel gave him a worried look. “And really, it’s almost nothing. I hope you won’t mind too much, but when a couple celebrate his first Bonding anniversary, it is customary for them to…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go plus the Epilogue!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this chapter is a bit late, but I was rather busy this week. Sorry for the wait. ^^;
> 
> Last chapters, ladies and gents. Next, time, we'll have the Epilogue. \o/

“‘lo, Blurr. Glad you could make it.”

The Agent paused in his progression on Shady Acres’ dirt trail and raised his head to glance up at the crystal tree he was passing by. Jazz smiled as the Intelligence Officer gave him an unamused look.

“Hello to you too, Jazz,” he said simply. “How about you come down if you really want to talk?” he asked, raising an optic ridge.

“Aww, you’re not fun,” the Cyberninja pouted but did as he was told, jumping from the branch he had been crouched onto and receptionning himself on the ground with a somersault, grinning proudly. It didn’t seem to impress Blurr at all.

“Show off,” he said, shaking his head.

Jazz gave him a look but chuckled nonetheless. “Look who is talking,” he said airily. “Isn’t there a certain mech you like to show off to?” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the farm, where various mechs were chatting happily as they gathered around a table charged with dishes. Among them, one could a very familiar yellow mech of small size who was locked in ‘secret’ conversation with a bunch of sparklings. “My audios can’t pick what they’re saying, but would you care to bet they’re planning a raid on the sweets?” he asked casually as Blurr sighed and almost facepalmed.

“No bet,” he deadpanned. “And I’m not showing off to Bumblebee. I simply try to gather his interest, and short of beating at every video games known to mankind, speed is the only thing that seems to keep him focused on me.”

“Prowl once told me dear lil’ Bee went for a ‘camping trip’ with him and Sari on Earth. Long story short, it ended up with them fighting mutated Space Barnacles, which was totally unplanned. What I found amusing in his recollection was Bumblebee’s idea of ‘bare essentials’ for such a trip. They all seemed to involve large amounts of technological junks, from TV and movies to lamps and whatever,” he mentioned casually. “Now, my mech, how do you think he’ll react if you told him you wanted to live here with him?”

“Probably with hysteria,” Blurr said flatly. “That said, it is only a project for now, and not something I’ll mention to him until I’m sure he won’t drop me for having different expectations from him about life.”

Jazz looked at him seriously. “You really intend to leave the Guard, then? I don’t blame you, mind you, but are you really sure it’s what you want?”

Blurr sighed, pinching his olfactive sensor. “Jazz, I know you care and that you only want me to be happy and not be too hasty in my decisions, but your concerns are somewhat misplaced in this case. Do I have to remind you I was almost crushed to death and throw into an incinerator to make what was left of my body disappeared? I was only so lucky the incinerator had broken down, took time to be repaired, and that Cliffjumper realized there might be something fishy about the ‘cube’ ‘Longarm Prime’ asked him to dispose of. If I’m alive, it’s a slagging miracle,” he almost snarled, but his body shook and his optics were shuttered. “I saw death from too close this time, Jazz. I can’t… I can’t just forget what happened to me, and I… now, I always fear something similar happening to me again. I just… Do you know how stiffening Cybertron has become for me? The large avenues, the small alleys between the tall, tall buildings… they all remind me of the corridor’s walls coming to crush me. You know I once panicked and though they did? Cliffjumper found me in deep shock, curled on myself on the ground and had to call a medic to send me in stasis for a while,” he said grimly.

Jazz patted him awkwardly. “I’m sorry, my mech,” he said sincerely.

Blurr glanced at him, optics pale and almost unseeing. “I saw Rung regularly after that -- I still see him, actually -- and we… talked. I know I have nothing to fear, technically, but it doesn’t stop the unease, or the… the hallucinations caused by my new phobia of closed or small places. Do you know I can’t stand to stay in a locked room now? That I keep the doors and windows open even in my own quarters? That I can’t even pass by Longarm… Shockwave’s old office without suffering from flashbacks?” He sighed and let himself drop to the floor, knees against his chest, not caring for the dirt it would put on his frame. Jazz sat by him in silence, listening. “I kept myself sane until now by focusing on my work, or at least, desk work. Perhaps going back to actual missions would help me... But so long I have these… troubles… Ultra Magnus is reluctant in allowing me back in the field. And I can’t say I blame him,” he sighed. “If I were to lose it in the middle of something important…” he trailed off.

“Nothing says it will happen,” Jazz pointed out quietly.

“But it could, and the risk isn’t worth it,” Blurr said back, chin on his knees. “Believe it or not, leaving Cybertron for a more… open place was actually Rung’s idea to begin with, one I hadn’t held much in consideration and even fought about. Then when we got to visit Bulkhead the first time… and that I saw this place… Well, I started to consider the idea, if only a little. It’s not the first time I came to an agricultural planet -- I was send on Agri I for a while, back when I was a young, new Agent, to investigate a suspected financial malversation in which several Senators had a hand. The planet had been nice, but it was much more industrialized than even the most modern part of Agri III. Here… Here, it’s… peaceful.”

“Place is nice,” Jazz acknowledged. “Prowl certainly thinks so anyway,” he said, smiling a bit.

Blurr had a thin smile. “He would,” he acknowledged. “This place is perfect for nature amateurs such as your boyfriend; lot of intact crystalwoods in various part of the planet, mountains…A good place for him to recover too, away from the agitation of Cybertron and the politicians and scientists’ gazes,” he mentioned, and both mechs knew that, without saying the name, he was mainly thinking of Perceptor, whose interest in Prowl’s ‘resurrection’ might have become worrisome had the students of the late Yoketron hadn’t closed the ranks around their youngest ‘brother-in-arms’. “And yourself, what do you think of the place?”

“Not bad,” the black and white mech answered simply. “Smaller and quieter than what I had expected, but it’s not bad, you know? People are pretty open and friendly, lots of little tykes running around,... And a lot of little things that makes you blink and double check what you’re seeing. And I’m not talking about how ‘amorous’ the various couples are, or the fact they don’t mind interfacing in public. Master Yoketron taught us there were very little to be shy about in life, and though he didn’t quite prone public interfacing, he had implied there was nothing wrong with it, so long it didn’t interfere with our duties. Wasn’t rare to see a couple up for a quick ‘face in the hallways back when I started my training,” he reminisced himself, visor flashing. “No, what boggle me is just how… simple life is here. You don’t use your altmods outside of work, you don’t have bars and drunken mechs hanging around,... There only a single professional firefighter in town, and it’s a recent addition! And there’s not even a serious police force like the Autotroopers in the area ‘cause they just don’t have trouble like back on Cybertron. That, that’s more a culture shock,” he said, leaning back and propping on his elbows.

“Does it bother you?”

“Naw. Like I said, it’s a shock, but not a nice one. Very different of Cybertron, where you always expect Decepticons to strike or infiltrate and sabotage, or where you fear muggers and whatnots hiding in dark alleys. When you have lived for so long like that, here… it’s the freaking Well. The fact you’re encouraged to interface with your fiancé/Bonded is just bonus,” he added as he glanced toward the crowd, searching for Prowl. He found him sitting in a chair under the veranda, in deep conversation with Lifespring, Ratchet hanging by and looking at his comrade/patient with critical optics, a folded cover on his arm, ready to throw it at Prowl and cover him with it at the smallest sign of temperature core in the Cyberninja.

“You talked about it with Prowl? Staying here, I mean?”

Jazz shook his head. “No, not yet. Though I think he already knows I want to ask him… and that he wants to stay here already, at least for now. He’s a hard one to read, Prowler, but he’s not blind to the too keen attention Senators and some members of the Council have turned toward his team. Optimus is just the top of the iceberg,” he grimaced.

Blurr nodded grimly. “Indeed he is. Just look at them,” he said, watching each member of Optimus’ team briefly. Ratchet watching over Prowl, Bulkhead playing host with Sentinel at his arm, rigid, Bumblebee running away, arms full of Copper-Cookies and surrounded by a cluster of giggling sparklings, and Optimus himself, in a light green dress and a shawl of a darker shade over his shoulders, conversing with a couple of similarly dressed mechs and femmes. “Megatron’s defeaters. Cybertron’s new heroes. A group of young mechs nobody would have ever bet on. A Prime in name because Ultra Magnus had enough esteem and interest in him, a mech fired from Autoboot Camp for making a building fall on his Drill Sergeant, a medic from the Great War with a strong dislike of his superior officers, a genius nobody ever suspected, and a drifter Ninjabot who hadn’t completed his training. Nobody, absolutely nobody would have vouched for them, and in the end, they were the ones who took down Megatron and his top lieutenants. Not the Elite Guards super-entrained soldiers, not some of our genius tacticians, no. Just a bunch of ragtag names, virtual unknowns. Unknowns they’re still trying to decide if they should control, buy or make them disappear as quietly as possible. Same thing for Sentinel, who had grown to be a disappointment. Ah! You should see how fast some of the Senators who had backed him quickly criticized him and threw him away to the Cyberwolves,” he grimaced.

“I saw,” Jazz said simply, face blank. “Not really fair; SP certainly didn’t play my tune by the time he was acting Magnus and his decisions were messy and unpopular, but he did thought he was doing the right thing, and they certainly encouraged him to continue, not like the Council members. Tell me again why we can’t get rid of the Senate? It’s not like the Nobles have much use…”

Blurr sighed. “Because they’re a traditional institution, even if they’re an outdated one, because some of their members still have a seat on the Council, and because every now and then, we manage to get a few decent ones who aren’t total afts and do some sensible thinking,” he said drily. “That said, most of them are dangerous fraggers. It is just as well that this Decepticon transmission was intercepted by our service. It gave us an opportunity to get Sentinel away before he suffered from an… unfortunate accident.”

The black and white mech nodded grimly. “I still can’t believe they really planned to kill him. Did they really think it would change anything? It’s not like SP was going to babble about them; he doesn’t even notice half of the time when someone try to manipulate him politically. Oh, he’s not an idiot, I give him that, but he’s not cut for that level of political intricacies just yet, and I would have been sorry to see him dead ‘cause some Senators thought getting rid of him in a permanent way was for the best… Well, their best. That’s lucky Ultra Magnus caught their plot in time,” Jazz commented. “For a mech on spark-support unable to spend much time awake or speak well, he’s still incredibly sharp.”

“Our Magnus is a political animal, who spend hundred thousands of stellar cycles navigating in the muddy waters of politics. He knows how they work,” Blurr said calmly. “And though, like Alpha Trion and most of the Council members, he’s still crossed at Sentinel, he wouldn’t have seen him dead. And most of us are loyal to him before we’re loyal to anyone else, so it helped. That said, I don’t think he ever expected things to turn this way,” he said as he glanced first at Optimus, then at Ratchet, and finally at Sentinel. “However, I don’t think he’ll be displeased with the results.”

“OP and his mechs are safe and sound,” Jazz acquiesced. “It’s for the best, don’t you think? Having them disappear in the anonymity of a small planet of the Commonwealth, living a quiet life, far away from troubles? Bonded and raising sparklings instead of dodging assassins or been used as pawn in power games that go well over their head?”

“I doubt Sentinel will share your feelings, since he fancied himself a finer politician than he really was,” Blurr said dryly, “but on the whole, I agree with you. Now, if only I could convince the Council to release the Jettwins into Sentinel’s care for the time being…” he sighed.

“They’re still giving you trouble about it?” Jazz asked, frowning. “I thought you said that now we had a better idea of their real age, they wouldn’t want to have them in the ranks until they matured?”

“In theory, they do want them to try and have a normal younglinghood, or what it left of it,” Blurr acknowledged. “The problem is that they’re also very afraid of Decepticon incursions with Megatron’s trial coming up, and they still think the Twins should help defend the planet in case of attack, as they’re the only flying Autobots so far and the duplication of the process hasn’t been voted yet. So we’re walking a thin line between what is right and what is necessary. Ultra Magnus hasn’t let know yet what he preferred, and unless he explicitly lets know he want to do with them, I’m afraid we’re stuck.”

Jazz sighed. “Hopefully, it won’t be long before they reach a good decision. If not… well, does Ultra has anything against info being leaked in the press?” he asked with a strange smile.

“He hates it. Doesn’t mean he won’t use it if it suits him,” Blurr said with the same strange smile. Then he shook his head. “But enough drama, alright? How about we talk about happier things? Like, is Prowl’s recovery progressing as you wish?”

“He’s doing good,” Jazz drawled. “Now we don’t have to watch over our shoulder to see if someone had managed to sneak inside the Dojo -- not that they could have, but you never know -- and he can properly exercise himself without overdoing it, I think he’ll get all his motor functions back in no time. That local Doctor, Counterstep? And a couple of the Enduras, too. They suggested special preparations for him to boost his immune system. Ratchet grudgingly approved, so they may have some merit.”

“Anything that gets even a hint of approval from a Protihex Medical Mechanical graduate is worth being looked into,” Blurr nodded in approval. “What about his new… hobby? I was lead to understand he was pretty much into learning medicine apliable to mechanimals?”

“That he does,” Jazz confirmed. “Not a bad thing, I’d say. The mech he’s getting lessons from known what he talks about and is careful about Prowl’s own forces and health. Took him to see the birth of a ChronoCow’s calf the other day. Prowl was beyond ecstatic,” he chuckled. “And you should see him with that Cyberkitten of his; that cat is really good at keeping him sitting in his chair. Little thing keeps climbing in his laps and falling asleep, and Prowler don’t dare to move and wake it up,” he added chuckling. “I should totally officially hire him as Prowl’s caretaker when I’m away. And the way he keeps lurking about… I’m half in mind to call him Prowler,” he joked.

“I doubt your potential mate find it as amusing as you obviously do,” Blurr said dryly.

Jazz shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. And don’t call him my ‘potential mate’, please.”

“Has he not answered positively to your demand?” Blurr asked, head tilted to the side.

“More like I haven’t asked him officially to become my steady boyfriend,” the Cyberninja shrugged. It made Blurr surprised.

“Is that so? I would have thought you did by now. After all, weren’t you already interfacing together before that final battle on Earth and his near miss with death?”

“We did,” Jazz acknowledged, sighing. “But it’s not so unusual for two Dojo students to frag together. It’s not… Well, most of us don’t form Bonds or real couples. More like, occasional berthwarmers and helpful friends giving you a hand. Prowl and I… we never said if we wanted to be more than casual frag buddies, and I don’t want to ask him that just yet,” he explained shrugging.

“A pity,” Blurr commented. “You should really decide to ask him soon. It would certainly make you happier, just as a common decision to settle here to live would be beneficial to you two.”

“We aren’t yet to the part where we agree it’s the best place to live happily ever after, my mech,” Jazz pointed out. “Though if Prowl wanted to live here and we were Bonded, I’d abide by his choice. Could create a small Dojo for teaching self-defense, or perhaps get into law enforcement. Not that people around here need it so much, but it would be more in my competences than plowing fields. Unless Prowl wants to focus on mechanimals, in which case I could help him, since the ones I met until now usually liked me,” he mused. “Anyway, look who is talking! Do I ask you how things are going with Bumblebee?” he said, winking.

“For your information,” the light blue mech answered with a raised optic ridge, “they’re progressing well. Slowly, but well. We’re still going out together on excursions and trips, frequent the race tracks, go together buy a drink at Maccadam’s,... What couples usually do. I even kissed him twice,” he added with a small smile.

“That’s not much. I would have thought you’d have fragged by now.”

“As much as I’d like to… Bumblebee is shyer in this aspect of a relationship. For a matter of fact, he is still sealed and not in a hurry to lose his seals unless he’s sure he’s in love with whoever try to claim them.”

Jazz almost choked. “He’s still…? Wow. Younger and shyer than he looks, then,” he mused as he watched Bumblebee sitting crosslegged on the floor, eating treats with gusto, surrounded by cheerful sparklings.

Blurr nodded. “Very much so. Hopefully for our relationship, by the point we reach interfacing and I… initiate him to pleasure, he’ll prefer it to these video games he’s so fond of.”

Jazz had a crooked smile. “Pit of an argument to come and live here if it works; not only he gets to live near his team, but he gets mindblowing overloads on regular basis.”

“If my courtship of him goes well, it is probable,” Blurr said, smiling a little. Shaking his head, he went back to his pedes. “Well, I think we’ve been gone since too long. Guests or not, there’s only so long we can spend away without becoming suspicious or being looked after.”

“Sure,” Jazz approved. “Besides,” he added with a smile, I can’t wait to taste all of Sentinel’s cooking. Man, who would have thought he’d become such a good wife?” he joked.

****************************

That place was weird. Neat, sure, but also weird, Bumblebee decided as he watched everybody mingle together, chatting happily as they sat down in the various couches and chairs of the room. Well, the mechs and the lone Femme who weren’t wearing dresses sat down; their… Enduras staying up or sat in their laps in some cases.

Granted, everybody wasn’t here. There were a few couples still outside, keeping an optic on the various sparklings playing in the frontyard or running around in the nearby pasture, dodging between the mechanimals Bulkhead had told him were called Chronocows and Robo-chickens. Weird things; he was so going to take screen capture to show Sari. She’d certainly thought like him. Like she’d have wanted to come, but her father had fallen sick recently and she had gone to Earth to stay with him until he felt better. It was… well, perhaps it was better she’d spend time with her Dad while she could.

It was something they had discussed between them once, after their return to Cybertron, when Sari hadn’t been around. Isaac Sumdac wasn’t exactly young by humans’ standards, and he would go offline sooner rather than later. And where would it leave Sari? As a techno-organic, nobody could be sure how long she’d live… or how fast she’d grow. Should her life expectancy be closer to Cybertronians than to humans… It would be a mess. They hadn’t dared tell her just yet. The consensus was that she deserved some quietness and time with her adoptive Creators. And if really something had to happen… they’d deal with it in time, he supposed. The wouldn’t let her alone in the Universe.

Anyway, going back to what he had been thinking previously, as he had said, the place was neat but weird. Take the dresses, for example. Passed the first hilarity of seeing Sentinel wear one like the human females he had seen on Earth -- and Pit, it was still funny to see -- it became far less amusing when one saw so many mechs with dresses in the same place and no one minded or laugh. Instead they were praising the choices of colors or patterns and exchanged tips on length and stitches and how to do a particular model, as if it was perfectly normal.

Seeing Optimus in a dress was definitely not funny. Or well, it was, a little, but the way Ratchet had eyed him with a wrench in hand, looking like he was measuring the distance between them and the strength with which he’d have to throw it to dent his helm had dissuaded him from laughing anyway.

That was kinda… surreal. Like the fact there were so many sparklings and younglings around. Bumblebee had counted two dozens of different ones, and apparently there was about twice that many in town! Crazy! Especially since there was, what, fifteen couples to produce them? He wasn’t too sure, maths weren’t his things, but man, it sounded like a lot.

And there were a couple more on the way, he knew it, ‘cause nobody made a secret of Sentinel’s current state. That, that was mind-boggling. Bulkhead sparking up Sentinel. That sounded like the scenario of a bad novel or an even badder movie, and he had seen quite a couple with Sari during their ‘special movies night’! Frag, if he had known these contraceptives chips that they had failed to bring him were so important back then, he would have been more careful! Because, Sentinel carrying Bulkhead’s sparkling… sparklings? Eeeek!

Not that he wasn’t happy for Bulkhead about him becoming a Sire and all that. But honestly… Sentinel?! Primus was cruel. Or he had a very twisted sense of humor, whatever. Hopefully, the bitlets would take after his pal and not Blowhard Prime…

Weird place, he thought yet again as he nibbled on a sweet he hadn’t known until then, Selenium-Strawberries tartlets, which was apparently some kind of favorite of Sentinel. Sentinel, who had prepared all the sweets and the dishes he had seen outside and partaken in. Good stuff, too, though he’d bet some of these other mechs knew how to do better ones. But really, Sentinel in a kitchen, preparing Energon and oil based treats? Weird, weird, weird. His processor was having a hard time letting it sunk in.

No liquid energon, he could wrap it around, if only because Bulkhead had talked to him some about the various kinds of energon crystals the farmers called mechanicrops he was missing now he was on Cybertron, and how they were indeed cooked to make savory and rich in energy snacks. But Sentinel, preparing them? Or Optimus?

Because the Boss-bot had decided he wanted to stay here and learn how to do it himself. Ugh… his CPU couldn’t just reconcile the two! He wanted to believe it was a joke, but he didn’t see how he could, given how serious Optimus and Ratchet both looked.

He shook his head as he eyed the couples gathered in Bulkhead’s living room. The whole town had come today… aside of the Priests who had apparently gone to Riverbend for a special meeting of the religious figures in the area. They had come to celebrate the anniversary of Bulkhead and Sentinel’s arrival to Primus’ Blessing. Apparently, newly Bonded couples, according to the place’s traditions, didn’t receive what they called Conjunx/Enduras meetings at home during their first stellar cycle after Bonding. They did their first on their Bonding anniversary and after that, were allowed to hold them as they wished.

Bumblebee didn’t understand much about it, really.

Slag, had it been really a whole stellar cycle since his big friend had left Cybertron and their team for some mission? Time sure had flew fast. And Bulkhead wasn’t about to come back, since Cybertron had decided to name him responsible of the new Space Bridge they were constructing. It bothered him a bit. He had really hoped Bulkhead would come back and they’d head back to Earth, but… Well, it wouldn’t have been fair to him, was it? With Sentinel carrying his sparklings and Bulkhead not-so-secret-to-him desire to have a family of his own and raise his Creations?

It still boggled him Bulkhead could have fragged Sentinel! And often enough to have actually sparked him! Okay, so perhaps he was lacking experience, but Bumblebee at least knew where sparklings came from -- when they weren’t protoformed and pre-programmed. So okay, he hadn’t known about contraceptives and other stuffs, but the Youth Sector in which he had been educated had only focused on the mechanics of creating a sparklings while strongly dissuading them to try said mechanics. Still being sealed at his age wasn’t very glorious, sure, but he didn’t care that much about it. Especially since he had not met a mech he’d really wanted to lose them with just yet. Well, perhaps Blurr, he thought as he glanced at the racer, who was leaning against a wall.

The other mech was… very serious about that courtship thing, and some of the locals took it just as seriously. There had been a mech in dress who had said his name was Nightglow who had asked him for details and had nodded in approval at his fumbling answers, smiling and telling him Blurr was really ‘sweet’.

Weird. Nice, he supposed, to see that someone cared, but weird.

Blurr was nice, and caring. He didn’t mock him for his rather small size -- unlike a mech Bumblebee had been interested in eons ago before having his Spark crushed by the jokes at his expense -- he listened to him, and shared his hobbies, even though Bumblebee had guesses they weren’t exactly what Blurr would have wanted to do. And he was… patient. He didn’t comment about Bumblebee blunders and corrected them when he could, and… he hadn’t pressed for interfacing, at all. At the most, he had kissed Bumblebee on the lips, chastly, and it had felt good and reassuring.

For one so fast, he would have expected to be just that in all other matters, but surprisingly, Blurr took his time… and it wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it was reassuring and endearing. Now, Bumblebee wasn’t about to say he wanted to Bond with the mech, but perhaps, some day, he’d feel like that.

But, back to his pal and Blowhard Prime. That was really weird to see the Prime sitting in Bulkhead’s laps like he did presently. And it only reinforced the knowledge he was slagging carrying. Oh, Primus... he hoped they’d take after Bulkhead, because his CPU shivered at the thought of two mini-Sentinel prowling around.

Ugh. Were they really forced to kiss in public, he thought, disgusted? He so didn’t need the image… W...wait?! Was Bulkhead really sliding a hand under Sentinel’s dress to touch him in place Bumblebee was better off not picturing?! And was Bulkhead actually opening his panel and letting his spike get out?! And was everybody doing the same thing?! Oh, uh, at least, the one who weren’t wearing dresses; the ones who did just straddled said spikes or were sucking them almost voraciously.

Optics wide and jaw dropping, Bumblebee took a step back, not believing what he was actually seeing. That had to be a dream right? A bad, bad dream brought up by that suggestive holomovies channel he had glanced across the other cycle while trying to catch up with Cybertron’s latest blockbusters he had missed out while on patrol or on Earth. Yes, it had to be a dream. No way it was real.

Except Blurr’s hands catching him by the right to stop him from stumbling and fall back on his aft felt very real. Oh, and the sudden dizziness at seeing Bulkhead actually smiling as he made Sentinel bounce on his spike felt very real indeed. And he didn’t think he was imagining Ratchet and Optimus kissing quietly in a corner, not joining everybody but definitely starting to fool around. Nor did he think he was imagining Prowl mouthing ‘interesting’ with a raised optic ridge and glancing at Jazz who was holding his hand strongly with a cocky smile.

There were other hands steadying him, he realized, and he glanced at the worried face of Arcee -- just when had she come in? He thought she was supposed to go on a walk with that Moonracer Femme -- who was looking down at him with a worried frown. He could see Moonracer hanging out being her, also looking at him but in a more amused way.

“Bumblebee, are you feeling alright?”

“...” he glanced again at the freaking orgy taking place a few meters away from him and blushed. “... think so?” he squeaked.

Arcee and Blurr sighed in relief. The pink Femme patted him. “It’s alright, young one.”

“Alright? They’re… they’re fragging like that in public and it’s alright?!” he tried not to shout because he didn’t want to become the center of everybody’s attention, but it was a close thing.

“Energon farmers do it regularly,” Arcee said simply. “I could recommend you some very good studies about customs, folklores and habits if you desire more information.”

“I think I’m handling way too much information already,” he moaned, optics shuttered. Blurr’s arms snaked around his waist and held him close.

“I don’t see what shock you so much. I mean, even a sparkling wouldn’t glance twice at them,” Moonracer said as she watched the different couples going at it wistfully, trying not to sigh. She couldn’t wait to be Bonded, but so far, she had never found anyone catching her fancy. Well, until she had stumbled on that pretty Femme from Cybertron, she thought as she glanced at Arcee, who kept patting Bumblebee’s hand and reassuring him there was nothing wrong or shocking about the situation. “All Bonded couples do it here,” she pointed out at the yellow Minibot.

“Well, I don’t live here!” the little mech said, looking at her sharply. His shoulders sagged. “Oh man, now I can actually see why Sentinel got knocked up,” he moaned.

Moonracer blinked. “Are you not happy for him? He’s going to be a Creator! It’s wonderful, no?”

“... Guess it depends on how you look at it,” Bumblebee mumbled as he left the comfort of Blurr’s arms. He was obstinately turning his back to the interfacing couples and winced every now and there when someone moaned particularly loudly. “... they’re going to do it for how long?”

The pale green femme shrugged. “A while yet, I’d say. They’ve just begun,” she pointed out, smiling amusedly at the look on the yellow Minibot’s face. Wow. He really was shy, this one. Sure, she knew some of her kin’s habits tended to put some bots ill-at-ease, but Bumblebee really seemed the only one incommodated. All the other citibots were watching with varying degrees of interest or acceptance. “You know, the day you find a good mate, you could try and come live here,” she mentioned casually, drawing a short, sharp intake from Blurr. “I’m sure you’d get over your shyness in no time.”

Bumblebee looked at her, very unimpressed. “Right,” he drawled, missing Blurr rather wistful look. “Well, even if I Bond someday, no way I’m ever doing that.”

Moonracer shrugged. “So you say. But you know, interfacing is all about pleasure, and everybody craves it,” she said, glancing at Arcee and blushing a bit. “Bots said that once you get a taste of it, you can’t help but beg for more. So I guess you will too, someday. Go interface crazy, I mean. At any rate, you won’t find yourself as shy anymore, I bet.”

Pit. He was almost tempted to believe her. Bumblebee unconsciously leaned against Blurr and allowed him to put his arms around him again. Shy… he wasn’t shy! He was just… unprepared, that was all!

He glanced at Bulkhead and Sentinel, taking in the way Bulkhead held the Prime’s hips, the way the Prime’s head was thrown back as he moaned, the way the skirt of the dress pooled around Sentinel’s body and the quick glimpse of something between his legs, and turned back, blushing furiously. Okay, perhaps he was shy, but who wouldn’t be in such circumstances? so, perhaps that, watching them and hearing them, he felt some sort of… heat coursing between his legs, and his spark’s rhythm had quickened, but that didn’t mean anything! And certainly not that he kinda, you know, wanted to join them.

“No, no, no, no, no. No way it ever happens to me,” he repeated sternly. And if he kept saying it, he might really end up believing it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blurr and Jazz knew quite a lot, didn't they?  
> Yes, in the end, having Sentinel playing housewife on a small planet at the edge of the Commonwealth is the kinder fate for him, for some Senators who had once provided him with advices felt nervous he would 'mar' their reputation.  
> Should the Prime say to the populace that they had fully supported him... or that some of Sentinel's ideas were actually suggested by them in the first place... that the Prime/Acting Magnus had been specifically groomed for vorns in order to become more amenable to their way of thinking and their political agenda... Now, they would certainly had lost support, something they aren't willing to.  
> Which they shouldn't have been worried about in the first place; it never came to Sentinel's mind to drag them down with him should he face serious problems. However, it was a risk some weren't willing to take, and removing him from the equation in a permanent manner felt safer to them.
> 
> However, Ultra Magnus caught on, and though he was disappointed with Sentinel, he certainly didn't want to see him dead. Cue the brillant idea to send Sentinel away on a long term mission as far away from Cybertron as possible. In the meanwhile, they also needed to keep Optimus and Co away from the spotlight too, for different reasons (mainly the fact they didn't want to be used a political pawns like Optimus was starting to be).  
> So, why not trying to merge the two into a single objective? Like, sending someone from Optimus' team on a mission with Sentinel, and while they're away, hurry up to find a good reason for them to stay away even if they complete the mission?  
> Thus, sending Bulkhead on Agri III is a well-thought move, for it allows Ultra, through the mechs loyal to him, to manipulate things so that Optimus' team can leave Cybertron quietly and push Sentinel away in a manner that spare some of the Prime's pride and leave him with (almost) spotless records.
> 
> Not that Sentinel would be awed, mind you; he would certainly strangle someone. XD


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you'll finally learn the names of Bulkhead and Sentinel's sparklings. XD

Bulkhead nibbled on a Beryllium Biscuit warily before nodding.

“Well Blurr, I must say Bumblebee did a lot of progresses with his cooking,” he allowed as he finished the rest of the treat. With one hand, he was cupping Sentinel’s face, which was resting between his spread thighs as the Prime was sucking on his spike. He sighed in delight as several nodes were stimulated by a very thorough lick. Hmm… exquisite, he thought, feeling it wouldn’t be too long now before he overloaded.

Sitting almost regally in another couch, Blurr nodded appraisingly. “Indeed he has. These extra lessons he took with Optimus seem to have paid, haven’t they?” he said as he petted Bumblebee’s helm. The Minibot grunted a bit, obviously not happy with the way the talk was heading. However, busy as he was with Blurr’s spike in his mouth, there was little he could do to defend himself, and sucking his Conjunx’s spike was nicer than having to rant at mechs who didn’t appreciate his cooking. So he had inversed a couple of ingredients once or thrice, big deal! Still, he clenched his jaw a bit in warning to Blurr, letting him know he would bite if he was really in a bad mood. Thankfully for him, the former Intelligence Agent took him seriously.

“Aww, don’t be so irritated, my love,” he said kindly to Bumblebee. “Do you want me to buy you that dress you saw at the market this morning?” he asked, and Bumblebee’s optics flashed in approval.

“You’re spoiling him too much,” Ratchet remarked from his own seat, hands playing with Optimus’ helmstacks as the former Prime worked over his spike without a care.

“And you don’t spoil Optimus, perhaps?” Blurr noted with an half-smile as he gestured to the red and blue mech, who wore a light pink maternity dress with intricate patterns and cream-colored pinafores, both brand news.

“This is different,” Ratchet said, olfactive sensor in the air, though one could hear he was joking. “Our twins are starting to show so much that Optimus really needed that new dress.” He looked fondly at his Bonded, whose abdomen was already well swollen, though the former Prime was still far from the emergence date yet.

“Eh, Bumblebee too is carrying,” Blurr pointed out, which made the little yellow bot in a white, flowery dress blush as he remembered his state. “In that light, I think I’m perfectly allowed to spoil the Carrier of our sparkling rotten,” he teased, and Bumblebee hummed in approval, sending vibrations down his shaft and making the blue mech gasp and whine.

“All of our mates are carrying,” Arcee pointed out as Moonracer licked her spike clean after her recent overload. “As such, I’m sure we can give me some leeway,” she said smiling as she looked down as the radiant Femme between his legs, clad in a cyan maternity dress which was slightly bulging as her abdomen extended underneath.

“Say Ratch, is Ariel excited to have lil’ siblings?” Jazz asked from his own seat as he stopped encouraging Prowl from taking him deeper for a moment. The black and white mech was lounging in the couch, a little smile on his lips as his Endura, dressed in a sober cream and black dress with a white apron, brought him closer and closer to overload.

Ratchet hummed and smiled softly as he pictured his firstborn, the little femme Optimus and him loved so much. “That she does. I don’t think she fully understands they’ll be her siblings yet, but she definitely gathered she would have more playmates, so she’s very happy indeed,” he said. “And you, Bulkhead? How are you Twins taking the upcoming arrival of a sibling?”

Bulkhead chuckled. “Which Twins are you referring to? Jetstorm and Jetfire, Vanguard and Crusader, or Paladin and Silverknight?”

Ratchet snorted. “All of them, what do you think? They aren’t too sorry there’ll only be one this time?”

Bulkhead smiled. “Nope, not at all. They’re praying for a little sister, if you must known,” he mentioned casually. And indeed, his sparklings, the ones he had sired and the ones he had adopted, were praying for a little ‘princess’ to protect and play with. HImself was also praying for a little femme, although for different matters; after four little mechs, he thought it would be nice to have another model. Hopefully, Sentinel would share the feeling.

His poor, poor Sentinel, he thought with fondness. The mech had almost ripped his spike out when, after Vanguard and Crusader, their firstborns, had finally been weaned, the two little terrors starting to crawl in pursuit of Jetstorm and Jetfire, he had gotten sparked again. Not that Bulkhead had been aiming for it, honest! It just had… happened. Sentinel and him must be very compatible and both incredibly fertile, that was the only explanation. Well, that, and Primus favoring them, as it had been stated by several farmers who had gushed and applauded at their ‘good fortune’. Bulkhead wondered if it wasn’t just Sentinel’s use of contraceptive on a planet where Primus was obviously present in spirit who was coming to bite him in the aft.

Not that he minded. He loved sparklings, and he loved having a mate all round and heavy with one or two little ones. He found Sentinel sexier and much more mellow when he was carrying.

Why, three pairs of twins to care for! Granted, Jetstorm and Jetfire weren’t their, ‘their’. But as orphaned, grown too soon younglings who had latched on Sentinel as adoptive parent, they now resided with them until they were mature enough, Spark and processor-wise, to go back to the Elite Guard. And even that wasn’t set in stone, for Perceptor had managed to duplicate the creation of flying Autobots with other members of the Guard, these ones being real adults. So the Twins might very well continue to live here with them anyway.

Now, Bulkhead wouldn’t mind, as he could keep an optic on them and on Sari, who was living with Optimus and Ratchet and was always gushing at how ‘sweet’ her ‘little sister’ Ariel was. The little techno-organic had… well, Isaac Sumdac had eventually passed away a few stellar cycles ago, and it was now clear Sari held more Cybertronian codes than expected, for she was still a teen in appearance, whereas she would have been in her thirties had she been more human. She still grieved, that much was obvious, but the Team watching over her, Ariel and Crusader and Vanguard and Paladin and Silverknight’ antics helped her move on. That, and the Jettwins attempts at courting her certainly helped lift her mind.

In truth, Bulkhead had nothing against the Jettwins trying to woo Sari. On the contrary, he would be very satisfied if they one day they Bonded. That said, there were still far too young to think about such matters! Unfortunately, Sari’s mental age didn’t match her physical form, and Jetstorm and Jetfire, given their mature bodies but young processors, had working interfacing bits. It spelled disaster if no one watched them.

He didn’t feel guilty the smallest for having them fitted with chastity locks. Nope, none at all. It was for their own good, after all, and about everybody in town shared his thoughts about the matter. Aside of Sari, of course. That said, he had made a deal with Sari. The moment her next upgrade kicked in -- and it would, researches done by Ratchet and the Ministry of Sciences showed that the little techno-organic was going to evolve and take a bigger and more robotic appearance once her Spark was ready for it -- and she was mature enough, he would allow the Twins to woo her fully, but not before.

She had whined and pouted and ranted, but in the end, she had relented, mostly because even Bumblebee wouldn’t bulge about it. He wasn’t too fond of the idea of seeing his ‘lil’ sis’ Bonded, it seemed.

Jazz nodded. “A little femme would be nice, I guess. I hope Prowler and me can get one, but we’ll be happy with any mech too,” he said before stiffening and crying out in release, Prowl swallowing his transfluid voraciously. “Uuuhh… Prowl,” he moaned.

“I wanted to ask you, Jazz, Prowl,” Arcee said as she helped Moonracer to sit in her laps and stroked her mate swollen belly, “how are things going at Pleasant Pasture? Are the ChronoCows still giving you as much?”

Prowl nodded shortly as Jazz made him straddle his spike, sinking down with a small noise. “Qu… quite well. The ChronoCows are giving you still as much, and some of the younger ones even more… hmm… ah!” he whined.

“It still puzzles me how you do it,” Bulkhead noted as he made Sentinel bounce on his spike, the former Prime reduced to moan and pleas to go harder, deeper. Mmm, such a nice change from the grumpy mech who didn’t want to come near his spike! Then again, once they started interfacing, Sentinel was always a bit slutty and asking for more. It was fine by him. “I mean,” he continued, “you got what, two dozens of them? And you still insist on milking them by hand instead of using electrical pumps. I don’t get how you can get so much so fast.”

“Secret,” Jazz teased before leaning him to kiss Prowl.

“Special Cyberninja technique,” Ratchet snorted as Optimus hide his face against his neck, while still riding his spike. “You bet they aren’t going to share.”

“Ah, ah, no bickering,” Arcee said pleasantly as Moonracer rode her spike, panting. There were grumbling and snorts and laughs and everybody chatted. Sure, traditionally, Enduras seldom spoke during times like that, but they weren’t hardcore traditional, and the ambiance was very pleasant.

Bulkhead helped Sentinel sunk down on his spike once again, moaning as the former Prime’s tight valve clenched around his spike. “F… Frag,” he panted. “At this rate, I’m going to overload fast. I trust you’ll… ugh… milk all my transfluid? Ah… our little one… will need them to get big and strong… like his or her siblings,” he said to Sentinel, trying to nuzzle him.

The blue mech grunted and glared at him, but it was half-sparked. “One of these… ah… days! I’m so… so going to… uh, yes!... to rip your spike off,” he warned the larger mech.

Bulkhead couldn’t help but chuckle. “That what you say every times.” He squeezed Sentinel’s aft, making the other mech gasp.

“‘m serious!” he whimpered as the walls of his valve clenched around his Conjunx’s length.

“I’m sure you are,” he teased, leaning forward and claiming Sentinel’s lips in a deep, long kiss to silence him. “Now, be nice, and you’ll get to go work with Levitacus later, hmm? I’ll even make dinner for the sparklings myself so you can finish writing that speech,” he promised.

Sentinel groused but quickened his pace, bouncing faster on his spike. Bulkhead sighed in pleasure. Blurr didn’t that much of a bad idea, when he said Sentinel could lean his help to Agri III’s High Council. But, instead of heading for the Capital of the planet, Sentinel stayed here and helped Levitacus progress in his own career. The former Prime had good hope that the Mayor would get elected on the High Council if they worked hard enough for that, and that he, Sentinel, could in turn propose his candidature as the new Mayor.

An objective Bulkhead was dubious about, but if it pleased Sentinel and made him less surly, who was he to stop him? In fact, he even encouraged him in doing so. If his mate was happy, then their sparklings were happier and he himself was delighted. Sentinel wouldn’t make a bad Mayor, or so most people thought. And it was a convenient outlet for his need to prove he was the best, his competitiveness, and his kinda power hungry tendencies, so… Beside, an Endura could get elected Mayor, there was nothing against it in the laws, and Sentinel had produced several fine sparklings by now, so nobody could say he wasn’t fulfilling his Endura’s duties.

Hmm, yes. So long Sentinel’s belly rounded up regularly, nobody would protest his attempts -- and perhaps his success -- at playing politician on a small planet of the Commonwealth.

Leaning back in his seat as he thought about it, Bulkhead just took the time to watch around him peacefully.

There he was, on a farm of his own, while also working on a Space Bridge -- which asked him little of his time. He had a good mate (when Sentinel was in the mood to be). He had wonderful four wonderful sparklings already, plus two adopted and a fifth on the way, and he hoped to get a few more over time. He could hear them play outside, shrieking in laughter as they pursued each other around the house, full of joy, making his Spark swell in pride and love. His family by choice was reunited around him, all having chosen to come and live on Agri III too, all having their own farm -- Arcee and Moonracer had Blissful Patch, Jazz and Prowl had Pleasant Pasture, Blurr and Bumblebee had Great Grange and Ratchet and Optimus had Halcyon Glen.

Eh, all the farms in the villages were now occupied, Bulkhead thought with a smile, especially since Restful Hollow had been rebuild and Fireclay the carpenter and his family had come back, and now that Clearway had officially bought Flowering Moor and was preparing his Bonding to Churn. Mayor Levitacus had ended up unlocking funds to construct a new farm for future use by another couple -- perhaps Cisel and Clunk should they decide to. The project was called Viridian Lea so far.

But, back to his friends. All of them were Creators already (in Optimus and Ratchet’s case) or about to become Creators soon. Their sparklings would all grow up together, far from politician plots and Decepticon attacks, loved and protected. His fields were almost ready for a new harvest, and he was already choosing what mechanicrops he was going to put in their place, while wondering if he oughted to buy a new ChronoCow or two now that he was having a fifth little one.

Those were simple, common farmer’s preoccupations. Something no other Autobot would have felt compelled by. Sure, that wasn’t how he had pictured his life would turn out -- and he knew Sentinel certainly hadn’t pictured his like that at all -- for he had thought he would be just a technician, never living in the same place for long as he went from Bridge to Bridge to repair and maintain them. He had been ready for that… or so he had thought. Thinking back, he didn’t think he could have handled it for too long. He was… he had needed something more. Sure, he had been a bit reluctant to return to farm life, deep down, because he had made his choice long ago to try and do something more with his life.

But honestly?

What he had now probably was the perfect life for him. And knowing it wasn’t undercover anymore was just making it sweeter still.

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it; it's finally done. Over.  
> This was quite an adventure to write, and I'll never thank Dellessa and thepheonixqueen for their help and comments. I don't know if I'll ever write something that massive again alone, but I'm quite satisfied by the way it turned out.  
> I hope you readers enjoyed the ride and that the final was to your taste.
> 
> See you around for other fics and other installments in the 'Woes' series. :)


End file.
